From the depths of the ocean in your body, I always tend to find the geysers of satisfaction.
Breaking your body down in ways that make the profession of love minor to us both.
When we speak, the words flow like waterfalls that chip away the ice around your frozen soul and bring the heat of a thousand ages under frost now freed of the gymnophoria, the mental ******* that society does to it.
You are opened.
My cocoa skinned Cinderella, chocolate to the taste and caramel to the senses.
You are my forbidden treat that I indulge in with inconsistency, and when I leave, you always melt into the hands of evil habit.
Tears in the eyes of which I had only known happiness, story upon story uncovered on your emotion and the only thing I could do is ****** comfort you with the sailing a sad ocean.
I never did tell you I loved you, and now I regret it.
Maybe if I would’ve said that word, that rope wouldn’t have ended around your neck.
Maybe the wry smile of mischief wouldn’t have been replaced with the scowl of a year in love’s drought.
And with the tears you cried for me, I made my armor, an armor of strength I got from pushing you away, covering my shoulders in snake skin and play the role of deceiver, for as you know, all us snakes love the rain.
You would clasp my picture and cry as if I had died, thinking too much of me and directing me message after message after message until my inbox and voicemail were full, and I ignored you.
I pushed you to it with my promiscuity.
“No love for the loveless”, they said. “All hearts are equal in the eyes of god.”
I tried to return your call last year, but I only got the voice of your mother, maddened in disgust and rage in me and crying when she saw the caller ID with a heart on it.
She told me what happened, and I dropped the phone and cried.
This is the love rain: the rain that only emotion can inspire, for I thought I felt nothing for your innocent soul, but as it turns out, you were my everything.
And losing you to suicide was my worst mistake.

If I get to wish upon a rose tonight
All I want is to see your golden eyes.

I love the way your skin dances in the heat with not an inch of sweat while daunting your perfection.
I love the way your eyes glisten as you catch a moonlit grace from heaven, so beautiful you offend the sun.
I love the way your body sways as your hips swish when you know I’m watching. You’re too seductive for your own good.

But if I could wish for anything, I’d wish for you to drop the act.
Take off that **** make-up, your skin’s beautifully dark brown, don’t change it.
Get rid of that girdle, dear god those his curve without it.
Take off that wig and those fake nails, baby girl, I know your nails look tacky, but your imperfections are perfect so tell me why you need to look like someone else.
And of all the things, take out those blue contacts, for though I know the true color is brown, I can’t see the façade when your contacts are out. I can see naught when I stare at you
Nothing but your golden eyes.

Take me to the place where lovers play.
Where the word love is on the tongue of each person who passes by and the jitters of emotion break us down and build us as twin towers of faith and infatuation.
Roll me down a river of finality, telling me sweet things in order to keep me close to you with little lies that make me love you.
Show me the tip of time and take me past it. Let me now that I’m a possibility for forever and that I’m forever going to be close to you. Show me that I’m wanted, that I’m needed, and you don’t want to change that.
Kiss my lips with sincerity and whisper your thanks to the lord into my ear with a seductive air. Because your voice is so beautiful and your lips so sweet that you take me back to times when we first courted, times when the deepness of our love was judged on how many tics the clock made when the phones were on.
Take me to the most sensible form of tenderness and let me teach you how to surpass it. For the threat of love is my only danger, and I remedy the fears pragmatically.
Is it ok to admit I’m in love? Tell me now, because I’ve been burned before. I’ve had the knives of deceit stab my heart before, and I didn’t like it. So Let me know how far our love can go before I need to jump ship.
Tingle my soul and make me shiver with the electricity generated by your feminine touch. You always start the wonder every time our skins connect.
Take me on a journey that sends me into Neverland with you by my side. I could care less where we go, so long as we are together, it won’t register which direction I’m walking in. show me that pretty smile and tell me it won’t matter to you either. Take my hands and lean in close to me, catch a breath and let it out slow just staring in my eyes.
And I will know where to take us.
You take me to the place where lovers play.
The little bit of space where time doesn’t agree with its surroundings, the place where we could stay an eternity just thinking about how we could spend our time together.
Lover’s land.

My skin is soft and my mind unexperienced.
Like cotton right off the stem.
And when animosity hits it, I tend to be unprepared for such topics.

My body goes through constant cycles of supposed purification
Like the separation of the cotton from its seed and the bleaching of its fruit.
So when I realize my impurity, I tend to reject myself. For I feel that others would anyways.

My blood runs through my organs, and is altered in my heart
Like cotton being twisted to threads.
I crystalize like cane sugar as it drips off its heat made daggers, and I crush to dust under the weight of every decision that I make.

She had me on the brink of chastity
Addicted to honeyed lips and cinnamon spiced ***.
She had my mind on the brink of loyalty
Enslaved to her body and chained to her commands like the loyal hound curled at her pretty red toes.
She had my body on the brink of chaos
For once I wasn’t able to touch her, I was able to realize how different we truly were, but it bugged me enough to form a need of confirmation through alleged ****** connections.
She had me on the brink of love
No, I never would admit it, but I was hoping with all my heart that she and I would never separate, and I guess that was my mistake.

Maybe I can now be at peace with my decision to leave her alone, but now my body aches from what I was trying to form, a bridge burned on the receiving end and yet I still tried to build with the girl who torched it in the first place.
Oh How Naïve Our Heart Can Make Us

Single relationship

I told myself that I’d be a complete social chameleon, said I wouldn’t let anyone dictate what I liked.
Turns out they were both lies.
I told myself that I’d love me more than anyone else ever could, I said that my strength would be what ran my environment.
Guess that wasn’t to be.

I itch for a relation but run from relationships.
And I hate it so much that it burns like copper coils.
It invades my lungs like air
and breaks me down like bad *** kids near cardboard boxes.

But for some reason I identify with it now, it’s like, I’m intimate with loneliness.
I can caress its jagged edged emptiness with the warmth of my fingertips at any given day, and it always responds.
I can speak into its bitter silence and feel the echoes reverberate back to my lonesome ears, and it feels like I’m hearing someone else with my voice.
I can kiss its luscious darkness and combine with it anytime imaginable, and it makes me feel loved by simply everything.

You can call it a wish. You can call it imagination or depression.
But regardless of what you think, I’m in a single relation.
And I hold hands with it proudly.

She explained it to me, told me all that she could about it and how she hated it.
Tears were in her eyes as she explained the pain she felt from the heartbreaking.
Her nose nearly ran and she sniffled as she cried in my arms, nuzzled under my chin, her shaking form nearly as cold as ice.
Her heart was once her own, her love was once brought only to the those who she deemed worthy, but that one person, that one human, made her empirical mind crash to the ground, ****** on by the rains of gloating hypocrisy. She is a shell and a mind of active saddened anger.
But she always forgets
that I know it better than she does

Yet again I sit on the cold floor, in the dark
And I fill my head in darkness.

But I’m at peace with the loneliness.
In fact it fuels me, gassing me like cars before a long journey into the abyss of loneliness.

And I think it’s time I hit the road.