You write me
A beautiful lullaby
Soothing to my ears
What a beautiful melody
Exquisite symphony
Drift me away
To a world of fantasy
But deep inside
I'm bleeding badly
By the lyrics of yours
For your words are sharp
And like a blade
Slashing my heart repeatedly
I close my eyes
With tears rolling down
Drifting into a deep sleep
And so I die
Killed by a wordsmith
In his sweetest melancholy

-Jess

There are kids that don't have a dad
A girl that feels too **** fat
There's a man who just lost his job
Some have gone without food to eat
There's a boy who watched his sister die
Mom's and daddy's getting into fights
There's a girl who's only hope relies
On a man who walked out of her life

So if you begin to think you got it bad

Just remember all the kids without a dad
Or the kids that make the girl feel way too fat
Just remember the man who took
His last breath of free air just trying to scavage
A meal for his daughters and wife
And the boy who wants so desperately to end his life

The moment of
utopia
Where ragged breath is
  broken
And for a second,
gravity consumes the both of us

There are some places that can't be touched and there are some places that can't be kissed and there are some places that need to be kissed and some of those places haven't been discovered. I'm a handbook. *** is like drivers ed. Am I crying, or shaking from pleasure? *****. Sometimes hands are there that aren't really. Sometimes fare fine linen fingers feel like brown bony paws that don't listen to "let go".
**** me. Even when my eyes get glossy and you're wondering if I'm still there. I'm there. Grab me. *** isn't always this way.

Sometimes I'm in charge, but it isn't freaky. Don't call me a freak, call me lovely. I can **** **** ****, but don't whisper that it's *****; it isn't "*****". Sweating and running make-up. Heavy breathing. Wheres my body, wheres my mind? Don't call it nasty. It's not "nasty". Grabbing, groping, grinding; it isn't lewd. Don't call me a ****.
Touch me and remind me that I'm pleasing. Touch me and remind me that there's only me. Touch me and enjoy it. Enjoy me.
I want the lights on. I want the lights off. I want you you you.

*** isn't always this way; sometimes I'm in charge.

maybe love is to watch a thousand winters pass, and still stand by his side because you know he's made of spring

i've never let go of your hand, even when you don't have the strength to hold mine