Noun, verb, adjective
Pronoun, proper noun
Determiner, exclamation
Interjection
It can do it all
Tastes like vitriol
High on the anger
     (or high on the pleasure)
Sharp as a broken stone
Fits the bill on any occasion
Censored, painted over, blotted out
Doesn't matter to me
I love the word "****"

It’s a fact that I love him to pieces
And I’ve fallen apart many times before
Every day I fear I’m going to lose him
It’s a terror that strikes me to the core
I feel like there’s no time to be upset
If something’s wrong I actively ignore it
For if I were to lose him tomorrow
God, well, honestly, I’d feel like ****
But all this anger has nowhere to go
And any irritation further fans the flames
I hate this, I never wanted to feel this way
All these thoughts make me feel ashamed

I forget that the sun shines every day
In a part of the world somewhere
I’ve lived in the gray for so ******* long
The nothingness is more than I can bear
It’s rained so much I wonder if I’m drowning
I can’t seem to climb out and save myself
Every breath takes more effort than I have
All I’m good for is gathering dust on a shelf
But when the skies clear and the day glows
I can blossom and flourish like a flower
I will be bright and beautiful
I can be my own power

I'll never know her like I do tonight.
Hazy hazel eyes alive with the low-battery alert on her phone.
She floats in the thoughts I throw her;
Spinal cord melts under the electric current of her brain.
        She looks for dreams.

Body stretched like mountains,
foothills and ranges cradle the sky and trace seas like her signature.
She made the mountaintop in her image.

She cups my head,
with the numb of the low-buzz of her caffeinated thoughts
telling me the secrets of the world.

Knowing her place teaches me mine.
         I belong with her: heart, blood, and sky.

She sits with me and feels human.
I sink back into the gentle waves of her voice.
The only thing she speaks is body,
so write a story on my skin.

She asks me to translate into words
the exact shift of her kisses,
and I take a deep breathe and dive into her
    again
          and
               again.

Words follow strict rules in her room,
but tonight we leave caution on her floor,
in favor of the cause and effect of her spheres of influence
pulling insecurity apart,
one filthy, dark thought at a time.
Maybe, she'll fill me with a vocabulary God can't forgive.

Like invisible ink,
she stains the individual cells of my being
with her.
'Till all I can read are the words
she left all over me.
My hands, my thighs, my head.
        Surrender, give it all to me: mind, thoughts, and sea.

Every moment a growing distance
Whether it be the speed of the plane
Or your apathy.
Your silence still makes the sound
Of a belt being unfurled from your waist
and I cower with trepidation.  
Treat me the way you mean to -
Be as cruel as you intend
Clearly and with no distractions.
**** me and then never talk to me
Until you’re hungry,
Because I can decipher by now
The language of your disinterest.
Stop trying to dress it up -
In “how are you” and
Dispassionate kisses
As shallow as 2% milk.
I’m tired of finding reasons
For you to grip me a little tighter
And say my name more often
And hold me in the dark
And look my way in a crowded room.
I wish you would do anything,
like you really meant it,
whether or not it would hurt.

I know you never liked poetry
that it wasn't worth your
precious time
but I have to thank you for that
because it gave me the freedom
to say how much I ******* hate you
and it helped me
with my escape
from you
and honestly
I'm ******* glad you hate poetry

-em vidar