This might not be deep enough for you, but I still need to tell you.
You have the lips of a goddess and I long to kiss them
And I want you to know
I hear you, that quiet shudder you make as you feel my breath on your neck
I see you, clenching your teeth as my fingers delicately dance on precious skin
I feel you, one hand on the side of the bed, the other reaching and holding on for dear life to my chest.
If you only knew how much I wanted you.
I want to make love to you like I have OCD- I won't stop until it's perfect.
I want to make love to you like I'm in love with you
I want to make love to you like you are my best friend
I want to make love to you like we were complete strangers, who met each other for the first time at some random college party in the Caribbean
But we thought to ourselves, "****, I will die an unhappy person if I don't make love to you".
And maybe I'm wrong for that
But tell me why every time I close my eyes, it is your hands I feel in my back; your inarticulate moans starting to sound like A Love Supreme and My Favorite Things.
Let me kiss you at the sixteenth minute and fifty-two second mark of Around the Midnight.
I want to take in every inch of your body, savor the taste of the gourmet that is your back, your neck and your la belle chatte.
Vamos a la mierda y ver como el ciedo de la noche empieza a sangrar la luz del sol.
And wake in the morning thinking every night with you is a love story worth telling the world.
So I am.
Physical ******* that results in spiritual exultation is what we share.
I want you in ways my mind can't tell my mouth what to say, that's why every time before we make love, I tend to stare at you first.
Engulfing the structure of your body and envisioning the ways I shall go about pleasing it.
My bedroom walls, the floor, the bed, everything else becomes glass when I'm inside you.
We become the solstice to each other's world
Time turns into the finest Egyptian velvet that envelops us.
I hear Nefertari's screams of fulfillment every time I go deeper into the story.
You are the definition of a Beautiful Companion, so let me be your pharaoh.
The ****** omniscience of you is what I desire
So I humbly ask you, to give it to me, slowly
For every second I have with you is **** near perfect
It's Euphoric.

-SFJ

In the meantime, I'll smile, as if waking up was "waking up" to the relaxing music played by an ocean's waves.
I'll smile, like Bob Marley was playing on the radio reminding me "everything is gonna be alright".
I'll smile, as if though that falling star actually made my wish came true.
I'll smile! Like the pain isn't about to claw its way out of my chest, like the anger isn't at my throat- begging to get out! Like the constant disappointments aren't wandering in my mind like an explorer with a broken compass.
I'll smile! Like the hate in my stomach hasn't risen beyond my control, as if my heart hasn't metamorphosed itself into a magnet attracting the insults thrown my way.
I'll smile! Like my attitude wasn't forcefully entered in to the Ultimate Fight Club- with absolutely no fighting experience.
I'll smile! As if my soul wasn't playing tug-of-war with Lucifer, and I don't want to "lose it for" I would become his understudy.
I'll smile! Like I haven't been driving for miles on a gallon of confidence with "patience" as my source of alternative energy- but that too has ran out because of the countless wrong turns I've made.
That glorious crescent between my lips has been turning down for a while, but am about to take a selfie for instagram.
So in the meantime, I'll smile.
I'll walk tall, head straight, steady strides, as if my insecurities weren't f@%king up my spine.
But in the meantime, I'll.... I'll talk to you as if every single word that I've said, I repeated, " 4...5...6 times" in my head, before relaying that message to you.
In the meantime, I'll use indecipherable vernacular and unfamiliar metaphors, so I am sure to say "how I feel" and be equally sure that "you don't understand" and if you dare tell me that you don't...
I'll SMILE

-Steve Flores Jr.

Excuse me, and my somewhat myopic preference, but I, I rather my art, my pictures, in the form words.
You see, my words! Are my strength. And I am tyranny to these symbolisms that I imprison inside my metaphoric prisms.
Making you clearly see whatever it is that I choose to describe, prescribe, ascribe to my line of thought just for a second, and see the things that are most important to me.
Like the fact that I tried to write a love poem last night; but I failed miserably.
Terrible was my endeavour at writing about this thing my mind find so much beauty in; but my heart is yet to feel.
But hey, I thought I was in love in once. With this woman, yes woman! NO children, but she had the personality of a single mother, who loved her baby more than she did herself, who would give up anything, who, in a single moment, would drop everything…. For the sake of her child.
And if you're wondering, yes, I was that child.
But I was foolish, and she was astonishingly beautiful, but apparently, not as beautiful as my pride.
You see!! As I mentioned before, my words! Are my strength!
So Still? You don't get it still?
It means that I am skilled, skilled in giving you these broken promises in the form of poetic reforms.
You can say, I am mechanic, and the car? Well, it’s your emotions.
So I’ll kick back, spend time and effort and literally plan out how I am going to psychologically, mentally and emotionally break you down into parts and then put you back together in a way that in the future, it's working the way I want it to be.
But it’s only like that because I've spent years working on me and my package, so all that you'll see… is what I want you to see.
And I made my exterior beautiful, I painted it with intellect, poetry, humour, sensitivity, a shoulder to lean on, romantic dates, good *** and all this! I laid out on top of black skin. So prepare to fall in love with me when, ugh, no, if you get the chance; but just know, I WILL NOT love you back.
You see, before “my words”…Trust used to be my strength! But that was before it got shattered, someone threw this huge brick at it, and now, like the promises I give out, it is BROKEN!
So every time I look in the mirror I am not sure if I'm seeing myself, so how did that “woman” expect me to see us together?
And it’s my fault! It’s my fault I lost the only girl I think that I've ever loved.
And I'm not one to live in the past, but if I could, I would turn back the hands of time. Hmm, No! As a matter of fact, I would rip its arms off, so it feels! The way I feel…. To not have this one thing you NEED, to be unable to feel loved and always feeling you're being judged.
BUT I admit, I am the cause of my own destruction… That started with lies; lies that the truth can’t fix.
I told her that I loved her, I told her she was the most beautiful girl that I had ever seen, I told her that I would NEVER do anything to hurt her and that she had me! That she had me only to herself!
Fast forward weeks later while I laid in bed with someone I thought was 10 times better, than her…
I sent that text saying: “I think we're Opposing Vectors, we have the same magnitude, just heading in different directions. And I don't know where our relationship is heading, but what I do know, is that I feel… there’s something missing”.
Days later, the last text I got from her read: “Steve, you're ******* disgusting”.
P.S “You did not make me fall in love with you. I chose to love to you”.
So I finally understand why God is quicker to judge the wealthy than he is to judge the poor.
It’s not because those who have it all automatically qualifies as being sinners of greed.
It’s because of people like me,  who had it all, and foolishly threw away something, that in the future, I know I would still need.

As I put my drink on the night stand; promising myself that I am not going to do it.
I still do.
I push its head under, submerging its life in a lake of past joy,
irreplaceable happiness and love that will never be mine.
While it struggles, fighting for its life
I apply more force, ensuring it drowns today
Hopeful that its death is my elation tomorrow
So I take another sip.
It won't die! What if "IT"can't die Maya?
But everyone hates me for it, its stench is malignant, attitude repugnant,
it stands tall with a backbone made of arrogance
and it lies down and wrap itself cozily in a quilt made of guilt, regret, unspoken words and time I can't get back.
It is driving away the people I love.
And will assure that anyone I plan to love- never will be worthy.
So I take another sip, trying my best to drown it.