This galaxy I think I know
My body's in the village though
I will not see me stopping here
To watch my hair and flesh grow old

My little brain must think it queer
That I am there but also here
Between the stars and dust and rays
The darkest places are not to be feared

My body cries and starts to shake
It needs to know I won't forsake
The vessel in dimensions, three
With bones and blood and hands and face

This place is lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep

To the writer that I read out of pity

I have your name etched in my browser bookmark
In my head still there's pieces of I Couldn't Help It
how I don't quite get it on the first glance from the windows of a ******'s life
now, in hindsight, still
my favourite of all
I creep almost constantly on your writings
clinging to the lights you reflected onto my life.
You were my very first visit to this site
You are the path of how I'm here.

I thank you
I thank you, Santa Moon Humor Leah Rost.

Leah Rost

The heat of those moments spent in passion reveal my true emotion
as the wispy little hairs of your skin raise to my touch;
flushed lips part before gently meeting mine and radiating heat
that flows through my body and thaws the cold hands you always complain about,
every second new sensations bombard the grey matter in my head confusing and pleasing the neurons that fire in pace with my breath
until I’ve closed my eyes and let myself drift from under your touch
because your eyes are blue and I open mine wishing to see his coffee brown irises searching my body for every ounce of emotion I wouldn’t dare speak out loud and
I’m begging to stop thinking of him when I’m with you but my memory refuses to block out the nights I spent warm under his thick, strong arms and domineering hands.