Often,
I feel like,
I am a door,
For people to go through,
To get better off than me.

Sometimes one plus one isn’t two.
Sometimes you
Look
At a person with things
That don’t add up, wondering
Where they took
The excess from.
Because sometimes one
Can skip the work, have fun
With threes
(Sounds familiar to me).
One becomes two
While you lose some value.
So maybe
Two plus zero can equal three
When skills rub off
Accidentally.

So innocently devious
in naive treachery.

More than a fancy walk
Could steal a man's glance
And invite a sparkling collar.
Or soft spoken passion compel the flesh
To gratify its hot appetite.

To speak elegantly of this and that,
And trap me in the stillness of your voice.
All the while you trickle down my vein
And melt away my heart's wall.
Brick by brick,
To my very foundation.

How freely you throw out these kind gestures
That hang me from your words,
And fill my head with empty waiting thoughts.
How carelessly you stole this
From under my ribs,
With a sideways eye and a smile
held in soft lips.
To dance across the room
And ****** it with a whisper.

Beautiful thief.

I feel exposed,
A bear without its coat,
I feel vulnerable,
A cactus without its spikes,
I feel scared,
A mouse running from the cat.
How much more of my life will be stolen?
How much more do they need to know?

I witness the cruelty
I feel the beauty
what hurts me is
I'll never know
if you see it too
I hope you understand
how much I miss you
a life stolen from us
by the everyday events
that separate the way
we want to go
it feels as though we steal
the daylight we share sometimes
an almost guilty pleasure
not something we should
have a right to