Give myself away,
just to feel you touching me
and giving yourself to me.
I'm wanted.

After you've ravished me,
and savaged me,
while I lay in our puddle of lust,
I can't help but thinking,
wanting yearning dreaming hoping
that maybe the next one who touches
all of my body will actually touch my soul.
Will love and breath me,
and be with me.

Until then I let those foreign lips kiss me.
choke me and slap me.
Just to feel something even for a moment,
knowing it will feel like a volcano erupting
when the one touching me actually loves me.
The one that loves my body
in its soft, curvy figure.
And loves the way I kiss,
and finds me **** for 300
other reasons than the way I moan.

I'm waiting for you Passionate Love.
Beautiful Man.
Patiently, waiting.

In or out? Pick one, now.
You expect me to be a
half-***,
almost there,
a tie,
second best,
a compromise,
an "okay that'll do",
a "that's good enough" until the next best thing comes along,
an unfinished puzzle,
a half-colored picture from a
99cent coloring book,
an unanswered question,
a cancelled after one season TV show,
a cliff-hanger,
No.
It's in or out.
All or nothing.
I'm a destination after you've been traveling all day
and a place to call home.
Not a rest stop.
Not a piece in a board game.

I'm letting go of that one percent
chance you'll ever want to be with me.
Because I want someone who's one hundred percent.
Who's willing to call my bluff and go all in.

We all deserve someone who's willing to risk it all
just for a chance to be called "ours".

All those people in your life
that you have hanging by a measly thread,
one little, lonely thread...
cut it.
Snap it.
Chew on it until it breaks.
You deserve someone who's willing to
weave their own rope just to hold on
to you.

All in?
Or nothing.

Too often in this world
we are told that emotion is a sign of weakness.
Be strong.
Save face.
Pride, perfection, pretending.
Put on a different face.
Don't let people know how you really feel.
Don't make a ripple in the water.
Don't cry.
Don't be sad.
Just, don't.
My whole life,
berated myself for feeling,
for feeling too much or
not enough or
feeling angry when I shouldn't
or sad when I shouldn't.
Why?
Who tells us what we can and cannot feel?
Pain knocks on all of our doors,
some everyday,
some just once in a while.
Why is that weak?
Do we ask for Pain, the visitor?
My whole life I have felt invisible
when I know there is a greatness inside of me.
An impenetrable good.
Maybe crying more than others,
maybe angrier than others,
maybe sadder than others.
But I am strong.
An innate need inside me to keep myself happy,
and those around me happy.
If you want to see me as weak through your
tiny little pinhole eyes
GO AHEAD.
I am the one
capable of admitting my faults
before you even find any.
My wrongs, my short comings,
in fact I will hand them to you on a
silver platter
because this is who I am.
Why should I feel ashamed of that?
Of not being perfect?
I'm not putting on a mask for the rest of the world
I cry, punch, spit, scream, FEEL.
Passion makes me feel alive and
I am here to live.
Without feeling I am
no where, nobody, nothing.
I cannot bear to live in a
traditional,
cookie-cutter,
paradise.
Why has society made such a perfectionist
out of all of us? Including me.
****, that.

You're not the things you have done,
you are the things that you're doing.

Surrounded by the ones you love but no one's really there.
Voices and darkness always fill the air.
You sit in silence, with your head hanging down.
People don't get you, though they're all around.
Deep inside, the dam's about to break.
This time, none of what comes out will be fake.
Just bare, raw feelings; words you'd never say.
Be very careful, i might scare you away.

Long lost live.
Love long lost.
Why do we spend our lives
wishing,
wanting,
yearning,
to be skinnier,
taller,
prettier?
We were put here for so much more;
I'm not quite sure what,
But why else do the pyramids exist
and the Colosseum,
and the 7 wonders of the world
and love stories so beautiful
your heart feels like it is melting.
We are destined for more;
more than we give ourselves credit for.
Comparing yourself
to those girls in your magazine.
This is the root of all evil.
I don't believe in manipulating an picture
so it can make girls hate themselves
by creating an impossible image of beauty.
Go write a poem.
Go take a walk.
Go explore nature.
Go create something other than your
negative thoughts.
Maybe then you will start to feel beautiful.
Maybe then we can create something;
the 8th wonder of the world.
Long live love lost,
live long love which is not lost.