Dreams get the best upon me
if only i would open my eyes
to look upon the world of skies
Where no one knows such lies
A world with such a loving theme
Yet it is a longing deatination of dream !!!!!

Hello, how are you?
I am doing well, thank you.
I breathe fire,
but do not worry
I am dragon and I am invincible.
You look great, are you on a diet?
No, no, no,
I am not a fat little girl,
and I know I’ve gained some weight.
But you see,
I happen to like pinching the rolls on my abdomen,
you don’t have to lie to me to love me.
I can see that, what can you see?
I don’t like to look,
mirrors are just glass and
I am more than that.
Yes, you’re very beautiful, did you
know?
I have always known.
I just haven’t chosen the right time
to accept such beauty into my life.
I think it’d be rather inconvenient,
to have high expectations in staying beautiful.
Because the width of my legs should not matter and the color of my hair should not dictate what I can and cannot do in the world and the fact that I am a woman should not allow you to treat me like a doll.
Any signs of lingering depression?
Yes, Depression and Self-Hate braid each others hair and sometimes I let them brush mine.
I often stand in the shower and talk to God.
I don’t know if he ever listens
or if I even believe in him.
It gets better with time,
I’m just waiting for a full recovery.
(if that even exists)
Our time is up, but I’ll see you next week?
Maybe, I’ll need to check if I have plans.
Okay, call me and we can arrange a time if the usual doesn’t work out. And remember, broken isn’t bad or else puzzles wouldn’t sell.
I close the door, soft dies the light

We have calcium in our bones
Iron in our veins
Carbon in our souls
And
Nitrogen in our brains
94.3 percent stardust
And
With souls made of flames
We are all just stars that have people names

Yesterday, mom put me to bed
She told me a story, a new one, she said
Her beautiful story was a tasty bait
Yesterday, i was only eight
I woke up with throbs in my head
My pink curtains were so white, instead
But, my dolls still stared the same
They never told me whom to blame
Was it mom who wished i grow?
I saw her dandelions fly, as she used to blow
Or perhaps i have slept for too long
As she sang me my favorite song!
My hair's now longer, my nails are French
I saw the differences on every inch
But, as well as i can recall,
I've never wished for this, not at all!

you                 don't            know


my                    love!


it              doesn't    whisp­er,



or speaks quietly    in        traffic        


where   it               might            not              be         heard.


my         ­      love
                                  
                         ­             SCREAMS
                                            ­         LOUDLY even in the hush of the evening!



you            say               
                   ­you                 know me,
        
    
but                   you,              
                          you don't know me.


PASSION!


it's in my work
                                  it's in my love
                                                            ­       sometimes they are the same.


PASSION!
                            for whom I love
                                                            ­              it's in my kiss
                                                            ­                                            

let me
                                                  introduce     ­ you to bliss.


PASSION!  
                            if I am your friend
                                                          ­          you know it...YOU KNOW IT!


you will see it in my eyes
    
                                      a highway deep
                                                            ­                        

                                       ­                        
an EXplosiON inTENse!


PASSION!

if I love you,

             you know it,

                             I'll be your full moon every night!


you think you know me

                then call me by my name...


PASSION!
                          
                      when I write , it requires surgery


I have to split open the rib cage.
  

                           Break every bone.


It is the only way to get to the heart,



                                              then you have to remove it


expose it,
                          
                                   it s~q~u~i~r~m~s as it is pumping.


It leaves a mess
                                    

                       blood is spilled everywhere.


The bones heal
                           but
                                       you hear the sound of metal
                                                           ­                           on metal


the gate shuts behind you.
                                                      
    
­                                         There is a horrendous sound
                                    

it echoes in your skull,

                                     in your mind.

  
                                    There are sleepless nights.


There is a cost
    

                      a heavy cost.


PASSION!
                          
                   If you want to speak to me,


after your punctuation is in place,


                            once your meter is formed perfectly,


                                                   I mean I don't mind.

            BUT!

                  I want to see your heart,                        your love,


                                                       I want to see


PASSION!


You say you know me, then address me by my name...

She lost her grip
Heard a voice so familiar, she tripped
Over the 1000 promises that lay on the floor
1000 and 1…there’s hardly room for more
And everyone seems to know better
Everyone seems to understand so much…but forget her
Misplace the fact that she’s well aware
She knows every line, can count every hair
She’s a master at the game
And losing, no matter how many times done, is always the same
What if for once…she’s done with the romance
The kindness
What if for once…she just doesn’t want to dance
And would prefer to just sink into the darkness that his her room
Be that one rare flower that through adversity did bloom
The rare blossom that had no need for love…no need for sun
A trend in the making…a grand story is to come
From this porcelain masked mess
The infamous damsel in distress
A princess who traded in her dress
And gave no more attention to love, but sought something less
Something less likely to promise something more
For she had already 1000 on the floor