as the raindrops fall
upon my window
and i think of you
my vision becomes blurred

You may never know
my disenchantment
floating languidly
in mellow water
where images
of trampled earth
mix with madness
in a playground
with children
running, jumping
to soliloquies of sadness.

It feels like nails are
stabbing into my heart now
Knowing we're not us

his hands latch onto my hips.
i can feel his breath fanning down my neck.

they call moments like this "heated" for a reason,
but i had not felt colder before he pressed my back against the wall,
for this only sparked memories of the moments i had shared with you.

(k.t)

If passion is a crime,
Is my muse but a disease?

If love is a ******,
Is my ink but the blood?

If *** is the devil,
Is my paper but the cure?

If life is the game,
Is my passion not to write?

and you grip me tight
urgency exchanged among us
to breathe in the words I exhale
yours lips on mine
your hands tracing my skin
undo me with your breath on my neck

No one's youer than you,
Or me-er than me

So lets be the us-iest us,
That we can be.

After that, just let it be.

I am more interested in your demons at 2am,
Than I am of the person you pretend to be at 2pm.