.               her **** sprinkled spine.
                her blackened fingertips from a day cleaning and smoking in
                the pre-spring heat.
                her knife atop the stump.

memory is the root of mankind’s trouble.

                  lullabies  
                  her mother used to sang,
                  as the fish gasped and to the bone.
                  
wilderness, a strange enchanted girl.
              
            her bioluminescent tent.
            her blackened beans and tortilla-leaves and peelings of cheese.
            her knife to whittle a twig.

her moments grow like gardens left alone to ghost-over.
to sample the city wilderness
& then slip further away into a rearview idea.
new republic.

                  paradise. she’s up that trail there.

Oh, stay away with your blanket so warm.  
Wrapped in the comfort of lies you have borne.
Like clouds with weight, convene upon my chest.
In the fog of emotion, it is fierce.
To confess this feeling, true to my core,
Unleashed in admission, dead heart, no fear.
Like waves in a fury, they toss, they pull;  
The wind scatters much, not this does it touch.
The steadfast burden, comfort of despair;
Depression is gray to those unprepared.
To free this blanket of anguish and woe;  
The ear of another to hear your hurt,
Shiver your shiver, acknowledge your quake,
This blanket of depression will soon yield.

His gentleness and
kindness makes her
blush for an eternity.
The words of love he
speaks hold the powers
of sweeping her off her
little feet. All it takes to
make her heart skip
a few of it's beats is
one deep look in his
hazel nut brown
coloured eyes ~

Hiding behind text messages
we believe immunizes the heart
is a forced loneliness
a perpetual confinement
in a dark room, with low music
which only breeds madness

In such famine, the body desires touch
the soul craves fellowship
the mind requires intellectualism
laughs between true friends
and shared tears
of kindred spirits

Once we can no longer bear starvation
comes the gluttonous feast
As wretched hogs at a trough
any form of attention is consumed
to fill the growing chasm of
worthlessness

Blinded by false admiration on backlit screens
the body, the soul, and the mind savors
cheap flattery of dark temptations
Vulgarity drools thick as blood from blackened lips
The sweet tinge of grief
that bitter hit of hatred
spirals descent into the dark void
that forever hides the light

You see the beauty.
I see only questions
which need no answers.
I am at once
vulnerable and defiant.

You cut through the pretence
of the important trivial things.
The morning news
is enough to bring me down.

I sulk in bed, wondering
what is the point of getting up.
You make sure I find one every day.

You know the significance
of not taking my navel-gazing
too seriously.

And when I despair at the futility
of trying to fix the broken world,
you show me with your endless zeal
and unwavering hope
that just trying
can make all the difference.

Love* is seeing imperfect things perfectly
Their flaws, which catches you,
Their smile, which means nothing to others but means a lot to you,
"Love is blind.", Indeed it is,
Turn-off's and on's isn't a big thing when you're in love,
Just the fact seeing them makes you happy,
makes you smile instantly
foul smells, unpleasant things or anything doesn't matter if you
really love them
I doubt people who says that they already have their true love
Where's the love there?
Love, because he/she looks good? 
Because he/she is rich?
Loving someone despite their flaws and issues is what we called true love
Added by trust, respect and faith are the perfect ingredients to achieve true love,
Just by accepting them in any imperfections that they have will mean a lot.