You ask me to tell you my story
So you can scan it and move on to the next book.
But I cannot be your Sunday read.
I can only be your Sunday coffee.

What makes you think I’ll let you have a taste.
So you can spit me out and never try again?
I know you’re not in the place to try something new,
So I’ll save you from trying me.

I’ll save you from the sweetness,
The aftertaste of me lingering throughout.

How strongly I crave your bitter taste.
When I can’t sleep on Sunday night.
When I can’t cope with reality.
And I pull you towards me in the hopes of getting a taste,
Only for you to burn my tongue.

When you come around again I’ll go for another sip
In the hopes that someday you’ll keep me warm and alive
Instead of burning my insides

Time ticked by
in your arms I laid,
with my emotions flying high
& my heart thirsty..

I am bared
for all to see
my naked
..Vulnerability..

Hold me
Not for you but for me

Look at me and see
My happiness as something
You want

Not for you
But for me

open to you
it's hurting me
where to next
who to trust
vulnerability killed me

Skin so soft, like a baby, smooth to the touch
I love to sit and run my fingers up and down your back, or your arm, or anywhere really.
But your not a baby, you’re a man
A man who knew hardship and struggle
long before you knew what it was to enjoy the finer things in life.

My heart jumped and my eyes could not look away from you the first time we met.
With your shirt off on a hot summer day,
your smooth skin enticed me before I even knew who you really were.

And here I sit two years later, thinking back on that first day
When our love had just began, how much I already loved you in those first few moments.

And I wonder, how can one man be so **** good?
You never raise your voice or berate me,
you only show your undying love for me.

And maybe that’s why I so often push you away,
because Ive never known a love so pure.
Ive never had one man, or person for that matter, love me so wholly the way you do.

I couldn’t imagine my world without you,
yet I never fail to let you know how much better my life would be without you in it.
Maybe I don’t know how to love, or maybe I don’t want to be loved,
Maybe I want you and everyone else to hate me, just as I hate myself to my very core.
I pray everyday that I can be as women as you are man.
That I can wear my heart on my sleeve as you do.

That I can tell you my real feelings,
that I can tell you, you are my world.

But then you would know,
And I would be left open like a book, and vulnerable.
Maybe one day, when I'm ready of course, I’ll let you in and let you fully see who I really am
One lost soul among a million, tainted and imperfect.

Until then I love you more than you can know, even though I never let those emotions show.
I love you, I do.

Sometimes, I am a paper girl.
I look in the mirror
To judge my blotches and creases-
I am a pale, thin tissue
That bows to the howling wind
Transparent for anyone who cares enough to look.

If you like pretty pictures, I'm the one for you-
A roll of film scratching laughs
On curious cinema screens
That could run into infinity
Just to fuel your smile.

I soak up your messes willingly:
All the colours that bleed and mix
To form the specks of sadness
In your eyes at 10.p.m
And the grass stains that roll
Down your bare gypsy feet
And the sunflower seeds
That stick to your inky lashes-
These things give an echo of the flavour
I miss.

I am vain
I regularly conjure up poetry on my skin-
Do not give me yours.
I will recite it to my last paper breath
So I can kid myself that paper is power.

I am not the phantom you teach to play piano
Under the helter-skelter moon,
I am far too fragile for that-
My paper cut fingers bend
And bleed light all over the keys.

My hands are a canvas
For anyone's ***** details
For if enough titles are painted on my body then perhaps
I will learn the complex trick
Of gaining depth

And maybe the world will look as full
And real as I read in books
And dance with in music
And maybe my edges will stop being ripped
Or my corners cut
Or my pages burned and tossed aside.

Sometimes, I am this tiny
Vulnerable
Origami creature
And my cream card bones tremble like feathers
A bad caricature of life.

Sometimes I am full of wonder-

But right now, I am this.

We are too scared
      to have
  what we are too scared
        to lose;
     We are too scared
           to love
        when we are too scared
              to choose.