My hair, knotted in your clenched fist,
Passion. Pure and raw.
Your taste, on my lips, in my mouth.
Skin. Bodies glistening.
My scent around your mouth,
Moans. Soft, desperate.
Your warmth fills my body.
My reward. "Good girl."
That line you see where the sky and the sea meets is the exact same line that separates them
I am the sea
You are the sky
Love is our horizon
Her heart gave me the love,
that left me the pain.
The part the hurts the most,
If I met her in another life,
I would do it all over; again.
With her I am living,
Without her I am dead.
She was a forest.
When fire did come, she did dance.
The beauty of death.
My heart feels like it's
made of glass, if it cracks,
it will shatter into tiny
granules of sand
Within the palm
of your sweet
382 days and counting
Since I've last seen you
Not a day has gone by since then
That I don't incredibly miss you
Hardly a single breath of fresh air has been
Inhaled without even the slightest hint of you
And all I seem to do is drink more without you
382 days checked off the calendar but I still keep waiting
Anticipating for the morning I wake up when I'm no longer waiting
Waiting to let go or the day I stop wasting
Wasting these days away, erasing the images I keep repainting
Beautiful mural images all over my mind and I can't stop retracing
Remembering all of our bitter night endings
are better than this empty bed that I'm facing
382 days have passed and I'm trying to let go
Clenching my fists toward my stomach and taking a blow
Pulling my hair out from the roots just to watch it regrow
Smiling in front of the world and screaming into my pillow
Going crazy and wishing I could go back to 382 days ago.
This came out of nowhere. Dedicated to the one that got away, the one I gave away because he was not good for me, as you can see. Just a thought that turned into a rant. Don't worry, it happens.
I swear with all my heart
Every boy I've ever loved
has wanted me to hurt
He set up a picnic
over the rail road tracks
just to watch the weight
of the train crush
And he laughed when
I asked why he'd do that...
Why he'd pretend that
this was lovely,
all the while knowing
that it would be ******
and the butterflies
in my stomach
danced to the beat
of the breath between
his ivory teeth
And then I wonder why
pain is comforting,
And I wonder why
I feel alive
only when I cry
"This won't hurt a bit"
And then he ripped
my arm from the socket,
As I swooned over the
touch of his hand over mine
"I don't wanna be in agony"
And he said,
"Then stay the hell away from me"
And I could never decide
Which would cause more injury
People always say that it hurts at night
and apparently screaming into your pillow at 3 am is the equivalent of being heartbroken.
it's 9 am on a Wednesday morning
and you're standing at the kitchen bench waiting for the coffee to brew
And the smell of dusty sunlight and Columbia roast makes you miss them so much
you don't know what to do with your hands.
I don't know what to do with myself