yes,
you can kiss
my rose petal eyelids
my stained cheeks
my humming neck
my willing waist
my burning skin
anywhere on
my restless body
but kiss my lips,
and I'll spend the
rest of my life
aching
grieving
searching for
your stinging tongue

  fate assured me
   we'd burn violently
    but ultimately suns die
     every flame grows tired
      every bulb will break
      every wick will drown  
     charred and regretful
    weary and worn out
   drained of energy
  choking for air
i'm not ready
to ignite
just yet

I do not want to be touched like a steering wheel is touched;
Or a guitar-
Like I am a machine, an instrument made of parts,
Like if you pluck my strings, I’ll sing for you
Like I was only created to get you from point a, to point b,
Like I was made entirely to respond to your urgings. –

I do not want to be loved like a dog is loved,
Or a car.
Like I am the comforting warmth at the foot of your bed, or the meticulously painted frame you can’t wait to show your friends,
Because you still hope you can earn their respect. –
My love, I want you to touch me because it is through my skin that you can cool the fear that burns me,
I want you to want my body because it is the artistic expression of the person God made me!

Do you know that God made me? –

My love, I want you to love me because I AM the bones inside your body,
Because I am the ribs that curve around the softest part of your insides, protecting.

I want you to love the way it hurts to love me,
Because nothing worthy is painless,
and I am nothing if not worthy-

Do you know that I am worthy?

Your life, like white light, still ringing in brilliant clarity,
In bitter delicious memory in our minds.
-your beautiful life,
Standing out in burning silhouettes every time we close our eyes.

I write poems about you in my dreams.
I try to work it out in miserable half-sleep,
How a girl of thirteen could one day be wrapped in the arms of her parents,
and the next,
Immured in cold earth without mercy.

You cannot be gone.
You are so **** young.

You never met a heart you didn’t mark with the splendor of your beauty,
That outrageous, unique, chromatic personality,
Resplendent by nature,
Demure in humility.

Do you hear me where you are?
Sitting in glory at the feet of God?

Your parents will see you when they come Home.

I know that we’ll see you when we all come Home.

We knew nothing of war, we were
Brought up in peace.
Those days were a different
Colour than these.
We played in the fields,
Built houses in trees.
Few children on Earth were as
Lucky as me.

So distant, the light of
Yesterday's skies.
But I remember Paradise.

The smell of her neck, her
Hair in my face.
We'd lie there and stare into
Outter space.
We'd hide from the world, but
The world knows her heart.
She found us together and
Ripped us apart.

So distant, the home that I found
In her eyes.
But I remember Paradise.

I love to look back, but I need  
Not to pine.
Yesterday's carved in the
Backbone of time.
Pearls on the seaside,
Reflecting the past.
More solid than gold are the
Memories that last.

Smoke might rise from tomorrow's skies.
But yesterdays hide not a single surprise.
Time is a hawk, and despite how she flies.
I'll always remember Paradise.

You owe me nothing but to breathe.
To remember how I tore my heart in
Two rendering a

Blood Eagle to stretch its wings and
Tickle our souls with its sticky feathers.
When I think of us, I see us as we were.

Other people than now.
Memories framing themselves like a
Fantastic painting the artist

Stepped back to admire, then died.
Hang me. Hang me before i hang
Myself.

Dramatically opposed to drama.
Uninterested infatuation.
Broke billionaire.

Mortal gods shaking divine hands
With decomposing composers,
Thanking them for the silence.

We were lovers and enemies, and
I'd still give my life and afterlife to
See you worship another as if I

Never left a fingerprint on this
Planet; resting as safely in arms that
Love you unendingly,

As we all lie sleeping; dreaming
In our own, stronger arms,  
Forgetting that even our loving

Is imaginary.
Death is awakening.
Rubbing the

Eyes of our souls and yawning,
We look up and smile at that which
All of this is a bleak and fleeting

Shadow of.
Plato knew.
When I wish to die, I do too.

This love is not Love.
It's all mud and air.
You owe me nothing but to breathe.

They wrote about you.
Named you Goddess and  
Lifted you high above the

Imagined boundaries of your
Spirit and ***.
No longer seeming as little as

You always felt. Well...
The rains came; you became
Umbrella.

Cinderella's indecisive cousin.
Wet now, and not in the
Good, hot way.

Workmen's sweat fresh from
Frustrated chests upon your ever
Forgiving back.

Heathens in the temple.
Berserkers in the
Cathedral.

Male pens, shovels and clamps
Made for grabbing and digging,
Holding up towards God's Skies

And proclaiming, not "Her,"
But: "Mine!"
I've seen it as it is.

Oh, I know. I've been a lifter.
Shoving goddesses into brick sized
Holes, praising the solid

Wall.
You deserve better. Take it from
Iron:

There is not enough
Gold in your
Life.

Shout at me and I'll cry,
But soon this pain will die
Call me a disappointment and I wouldn't mind,
Add another regret to my life; I'll be thankful to you for being so kind
Spill out all your anger as I'm here,
These harsh words and this sharp tone, I can bear
Let me suffer from this disgrace alone
And let me question myself why I was even born?
As I sit in the dark to meet these thoughts
We share the misery that we both have brought