Nights are filled with the harsh winds of winter,
The darkness from dusk to dawn toyed with you,
Lights are dimmed but shine as you re-enter;
Eyes filled with tears as wet as morning dew.

You fall onto the bed, your heart is aching,
I stand there not knowing how to fix this,
Silence fills the room, you are breaking;
You go numb, I give you a final kiss.

As I shut your eyes... I cry out to you,
The once silent room is now filled with screams,
My world without you is a dark grey hue;
My life is to be ripped all at the seams.

I must end it all to be with my love,
Heartbreak can ****, I will see her above.



                                     t.h.

They say the touch of another can heal; so
how come when you touch me i'm still
unsatisfied, still craving more.

Every time you touch me it leaves me in an
unholy mess. For your touch is poison , but I
—can't get enough of it.

Let my hands do all the talking.

My long nails dig into the skin on your back,
Creating red lines of passion.
You let out a soft moan and begin to say something.

My hands move to your neck, my fingers wrap around and squeeze tightly;
My mouth presses against your ear,
"I said let my hands do the talking".

As I am there, my teeth gently caress the edges of your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body.

I make my way slowly down your neck to your collarbones, kissing every inch. You go to let out another whimper, my hand covers your mouth.

I continue traveling down your chest, my tongue leads me closer and closer to your hardened ****.

My hand grips the base of you. I glide my fingertips up and down the shaft, teasing you... is what I do best.

Pre-*** drips down. I lick it off slowly, never forgetting to look straight into your dark brown eyes.

Your head falls back. Your hand moves from the bed sheets to the top of my head, tangled in my mess of hair.

You push down on my head and your **** is sliding down my throat. I choke and gag, "Now that your mouth is full... it's my turn to talk."

T.h.

Autumn
The season of change.
Winter
The season of death.
Spring
The season of rebirth.
Summer
The season of healing.

A cycle I went through but I still miss you,


I'll miss you when the wind is rough and leaves are scattered about. When the air outside is cold and makes me sick. When the sky lights up and screams out your name in the way the thunder claps.


Because, when the storm clears and the birds come out, I realize...

Another year has passed, I still love you.


T.h.