I want to feel
my lips against your lips
skin against skin
hands wandering on your
careful and slowly
kiss me passionately
& love me deep.
promise me that you will love me forever.
A young and hopeful soul. Fragile, yet eager for purpose. And an aging heart, cold and taught from the tests of time. Each completely driven by the infinitely complex idea of... love. Yet, the heart and her soul see this “love” like night from the day.
For the soul, in his ever longing eyes, seeks connection. Innocent and pure, he craves something beautiful… something to call his own. He craves significance, an endless desire to have importance in the eyes of another.
But, tethered to the same mind, resides the heart.
Against her scarred and frail skin, nothing has hurt the heart more than what she has learned to be the definition of this trauma named “love”. A lifetime of aggression shrouding the possibility of compassion. Bound to the brain like its prisoners and hidden behind bloodied skin and bone lay an empty soul… and its broken heart.
with the all
We never stood a chance..
My dark skin became my enemy at one point
It became my enemy, because I thought a man could never love a dark skin yet ******* up individual like me
Most of the men I liked were attracted to women of the lighter complexion or opposite end of the color spectrum
But I failed to realize that
My dark skin was rich with radiance,
My dark skin failed to crack as I’m growing older
Failed to blemish to too much sun
Even failed to whelp up after childhood whippings
My dark skin hasn’t lost its touch
My faith just diminished
Because of worldly views
The Bible warned me of
I was young and dumb
Yet still truly blessed by the color of my skin
Working on loving my skin daily
Skin is so deeply rooted with scars of my ancestors
Smooth as a newly paved road yet deeply flawed by life
Patiently awaiting the touch that makes it OK to be touched
Covered by sheets of cloth so the beauty won’t be visible
Washed daily and lotion up yet eyes still wonder
Questions of ‘What do you feel like’ or ‘****, why are you so soft’?
While the skin is so deeply rooted with scars of my ancestors,
My skin still lacks the will to withstand temptation, lust, and premarital *******
Vowing the will of celibacy,
I see him and he gives me strength to be as strong as he
I would say ‘Thank you’,
But he just makes my skin tremble for his owns.
I've been insecure about my skin, because most days it becomes hard to love in this world. My Skin is beautiful.
I’m not afraid of ghosts
But I don’t like the way things linger
Or the feel of your skin on mine
You look like someone’s wearing you skin today.
Your movement’s off,
you’ve bent your arm in a way
I think you crawled
out of your mouth
and handed you skin to a stranger to pilot.
Someone unconcerned with appearances
and seems more comfortable in your leather jacket
than you do,
so you could have a day off
from being someone else.
The rain descends
like a velvet curtain.
I use that steady
to cleanse my skin
of your touch.
It fills me up, and I spit you out;
wring you out of my hair.
© KMH 2019
you have no idea
i want to watch my blood flow
into the water
i want to paint the ground red
i am hurting right now
i want rip off my skin
and watch the blood
im trying so hard not to do anything to myself.