Envy
When you see me with him
And you wish
I was yours.

Lust
In your eyes as you take my head
In your hands
And kiss me like you've wanted to

Greed
I am in your hands,
And only yours.
But you want more

Gluttony
You take what is yours
And I give willingly
I keep on giving, and you keep taking

Sloth
As we lay,
Tired
Exhausted from the work we've done

Pride
When you show me off to your friends at the bar
And you have a few drinks,
Leaving sloppy kisses on my cheeks while they laugh

Wrath
When we are home, and I am too tired to give
Your hands gripping my hair as you yell,
And you finally set free the demon within

I bit down on my back teeth,
and let the air release from my nose.
I want to scream,
I want to break things,
but I can write fury instead.
There is a typhoon in my chest,
that is ejected from my pen.
My paper rips from the pressure.
I imagine it be like skin,
and how this ink bleeds
boiling hatred
is what I thirst for when
the adrenaline kicks in.
Because when all is said and done,
and bloodshot eyes glance downward.
The reality washes over me-
I have made
in madness.

I looked at their hands,
and how effortlessly they laced.
She wore a pastel purple and he was all black.
And they were impossibly beautiful.
Everyone was enjoying pineapple cake,
while the band played orchestrated indie music.
The place was large, and I was passed the mic,
Say some things for the happy couple!
"I...
I am really jealous, and I could only dream
of something remotely close to this
in my future.
Real love
I'm talking about a real love.
I...hope they go on like that...
-motioning at them making out-
forever."
In the back of my throat there was almost
a satisfying fear forming
that they'd become a statistic.
It never left my mouth,
it just stayed in my stomach until I met him.

I lift my head ever so slightly,
snuggle back in.
When do we ever really owe ourselves?
And what?
Respect? A second chance?
Slumber is what we deprive ourselves,
or make bed-ridden with guilt,
when we should rejoice.
I am at peace when the phone is unimportant,
and I forget the day of the week.
Hell, this poem was perhaps my biggest feat.
But I'll tell you more, once I get some more sleep.

I lock my eyes to their counterparts-
the alter-ego of my ego.
I stare into the mirror
not to remark on my beauty,
or the flaws that can seem etched
into the glass,
but because I can't trust any other window,
to look into my soul as deeply.
And when I look at this mere reflection,
there is a love so superficially profound,
that can only be understood
when pupils match up perfectly.

For seven days
We lived
But we were
Told that we
Could only rest
For three nights
Each could choose our
Own nights
For the first three
Days we enjoyed
this new life
Then Marie
Died
Another day
Thomas and Juliette
They died together
After finding love
Next day
Alex died
I'll miss him
Halfway between days
five and six
Three more died
They died
Screaming
For life
There's so few of us
Left
Just me
Lamar
Mira
And Jackson
At sunset on the sixth day
Mira tripped
And fell
Into the river
Lamar jumped in
To save her
We never saw them again
I am scared
Because I can't
bear to be awake
Any longer
If I don't rest
I will past out
That will be
My final night of rest
Tomorrow
I will die
I know it
But what of Jackson
He has rested
Only once
Will he live
Past our seventh day
The sun is rising
on my last day
of life
Jackson holds me
As the last of
The life
Leaves me
I'll see you tomorrow
he whispers

every good catholic is raised in believing
that there are Seven deadly sins.
Lust, Gluttony, Sloth, Greed, Pride---
just to name a few.
Me? I believe there are Eight.
The original seven, and Love.
Love is a deadly, venomous sin.
it takes you from who you are,
and makes you someone you are not.
one day you're smiling and laughing,
the next day your hands shake
and the scars are blade deep.
Love, is the ultimate sin.
It changes you.
And some times,
Without you knowing it,
It changes them too.