poetry fuckboys exist solely in the notes folder on my laptop
and are only enigmatic because i make them so;
dressed in beautiful metaphors, skipping
to the measured cadences in my voice,
they are a lot more colourful

really, though, my poetry fuckboys
are nothing like the real ones who touch you because they’re bored
and leave grey marks on your skin
and probably i only write them the way i do
because it makes my ugly skin seem ethereal, etched with history
rather than scratched by years of carelessness

poetry lovers aren’t really real either,
at least for me;
more than anything, they are characters
that i fall in love with
because they are made of love songs i listen to
and the illusion that i am capable of love;
fiction based on lovers whose smiles, really,
fall flat and move nothing in my heart

there is nothing real, or subconscious
about the way my fingers ache
for no one in particular,
and attach themselves to those closest to me

boys who sometimes smile at me,
girls that seem to exist only to laugh
full belly laughs

and there are elements in my poems that are perhaps true
and visible if you knew who i wrote about
but this is not even remotely real,
living between pages of poetry
taking comfort in their warmth

and no matter how dressed up poetry is
i am not talented enough to pass a fake
as anything remotely genuine;
even poetry fuckboys and poetry lovers,
to whom i desperately show my poetry to prove i’m real,
realise i get stale pretty fast,
and eventually stop reading my poems.

I know what caught your eye
Curved hips, dark hair and small dainty eyes
Aren't my eyes really something
You've probably never seen them though
Too busy looking at my chest

I love the way you call me baby
Sounds so sweet in your voice
The same voice you use on those 20 other girls
That's right I know
We all do, you're not really that clever

Well even if you're stupid at least you're cute
That silly smile of yours
And muscles for days
They really make up for the absolute lack of personality
But hey, at least you're a **** empty husk of a man

It's so sweet you're always willing to talk
Staying up late on the phone
Just get's tiresome with you always asking for nudes
I wish someone had taught you basic English
Maybe then you'd understand the word no

i have always been frightened of people.
after mom left, it was angry white women that scared me
their dead eyes staring while their mouths worked furiously -
i couldn't even watch an actress scream on t.v. without my mother slipping in under her hairline.

i am still scared of angry white women.
but now i am scared of men, too.
anyone who believes themselves privileged
to be near me
to breathe my air and look at my body
and demand that i give them attention
they too frighten me.
and i no longer allow them near.

i will let you talk, because that is what you do.
i will allow you to look, because i cannot stop you.
i will allow you small pieces of myself
because i no longer feel anything
but i will never
ever
feel anything for you.

and if you get in too deep
if you like me too much
if you begin to love me
i will cut you off
and feel nothing.

because moose was right
i don't deserve him
no one deserves him
and the ugly, dripping animal that sleeps in his disarming chest
no one deserves to lose everything
for the mere excuse "i just can't control myself around you."

you can.
and you should have.
keep your poison out of my mouth,
and out of my veins.

Cause it’s all just paper in the end,
Were all just stuck here playing pretend.
Some of us acting like we god,
While other have never even heard of a ****** iPod.
We pray to that god at the end of the day,
And then curse his name if things don’t go our way.
We’re corrupted and ****** up, dishin’ out blame,
Wishing for superman, left with some ******* named...
Who gives a **** with his name if they’re all just fuckboys ,
Woman pick yourself up you’re repressed by the man, part of his ploy!
And were all stuck here playing pretend,
Might as well make you name a story for the end.

I'm not going to be your second choice
While you sleep around with other boys
oh no no

I'm tired of waiting and the wishful thinking
While I'm all alone, And you're out
I'm (dropped) finally starting to head back home.
Heading back fast on these back roads.

I used to want you dear,
to hold me closer oh.
But now we're losing grasp as you sleep around some more.

I'm not a back up plan for you, a second choice
Nobody's number two
When these {other} boys leave
don't come back chasing after me,
I didn't leave you bruised

Oh cause' I'm not a second choice like these fuckboys you're running to
Can't you see what you've done to me. You never
considered
these lies and la-ate nights,
waited on you

I'm driving home so far gone don't dare to Ring my phone because I'm so **** gone oh

And when you're alone
with no where to go
don't come back to me because you had the chance already
to be treated happily.

But it's too late you made your choice enjoy going back to these fuckboys

They call me Dr.Strange because I don't thrive from the same ambition as the rest of my generation
I don't desire to **** every **** thing that walks and breathes
I was never a fan of getting high and skipping school
Hell the worse I've done is beat a ngga's *** for making a girl bleed
Yeah I'm so ******* hood, badass if you would  
A permant resident of wish a ***** woods
Where we specialize in the art of whoop ***
But at the same time I am kind
As gentle as a cotton ball
I will protect those who cannot protect themselves
Instead of being that coward who is left asking what if
But don't get my kindness twisted thinking you can trample all over my tiny self
Stomping me into the ******* ground as if I'm some type seed
But if you still have the urge to try me get this image in your head
I will make sure my weeded foot travels up your *** and out  of your mouth
I will not be afraid to rain down the scorching sensation of the hurt all over your flesh and bones
Causing you to sprout like a ******* bean stock as I just smile walking the opposite way
It is sad ****** these days try so hard to pretend to be all bad-***, talking so much **** I don't know whether to give them tissue or breath mint
Then what makes it even funnier they beat on these young girls thinking it makes them look tough
But in actuality it makes them look that much more of a ******* to society
**** is this really what male *** have come down to
A mere nuisance to society
A nation of fuckboys and male hoes
Is that what we are really aiming for
sigh wow I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight

They told me to take things back to the 90's
Take things back to the heart
Told me I should have done this from the start.
But the views from my six are contoured.
Covered in foundations of fuckboys, fuckgirls and blessers.
So tell me how do I express my heart when this generation believes the only functioning ***** should be brain,
Because heart will **** you
And the others are going to die from harmful ingestions.

They told me to take it back to the 90's.
Take things back to the heart.
So here I go.

The basis of my poetry has always been pain.
My heart and soul always confining in a dark pit of abyss.
My body constricted in a corner
Huddled up, popping everything it could.

Now the basis of this story isn't about you saving me,
But how you gave me your hand, shoulder, smile and wisdom to the path of saving.
Of how you opened your chest, tore out your ribcage and gave me your broken heart as you took mine.
Of how you taught me pain is inevitable but suffering is optional
Of how you showed me true love.
And how grateful I am.

In twenty four hours the heart beats 115200 times.
At least fifty percent of the time my heart skips a beat.
This means from 57600 beats and above are skipped.

A week consists of seven days
In hours that's approximately 168.
As like the first at least fifty percent is lost in thought of you
Which means 84hrs and above I think about you.

An average of all 12 months is approximately 140 days.
Okay skip the math, let's get straight to the conclusion.
Math is a fine art of illusion.
Filled with various abstract to distract you.
But the rule is you will always find your x.
The x that completes your equation.

So what I am saying is that you complete my equation of life
You're my X.

Literature teaches us to express our feelings in terms of literal devices.
From anecdotes, personification to lititoes.
It tells us to sing with our hearts,
Speak with our souls and allow our voices to do it all.

Like Christina Rossetti,
"My heart is like a singing bird"
"For my love has come to me"

Look truth is you give me butterflies.
You make my heart swell up in happiness.
You make me feel alive.
You make me stutter out of nervousness.
You make me want to impress you.
To always put a smile on that beautiful face.
You make me want to hear your laugh every single second.
You make me happy
Which makes me want to make you happy.
Because pain is a feeling we all get to experience
But happiness is rare and I want you to feel it.

What I am trying to say is
I'm taking it back to the 90's
To the early 2000's
To tell you, you're one in a million
That I'm stuck on you
And that I am madly in love with you.

Goin down
Drowning out the sting
Salt water leaks
Burns like holy water
Not just from the cuts in my skin
In my spit
My eyes

Kept the straight jackets to make my masks
****** stitches, most favored gloss
Demonize pill popping even though it keeps the ******* behind the gates
Those ******* taste horrible with *****

Instead of getting **** faced to forget the artificial praise
Just throw em to the sea
Make sure it's the dead
Sleeping with the fishes and the girl I used to be

Better yet I’ll jump in hoping this is just a dream
Either its me dying in now or waking from vivid nothingness
But will it even be my own bed
His bed
Her bed
What the **** are these stains

Option 3: choking on thread and barfing up empty stomachs and swallowing my pride
Playing with fuckboys like a rejected barbie doll, a hallow head growing rhino horns
One hell of a drug
One hell of a *****
Pitchforks not hot enough to boil off plastic flesh

Next thing to bleach are the eyes
Can’t stand her disappointed eyes
My eyes
Hellbent *****
Reflecting vanity in broken glass
What the point for a window with no soul
Divine Frankiestien
That's  monster I’ve become

No

The monster they made me to be

Why do all these guys keep calling me a *****
Just cuz I don't want my clothes on their bedroom floor
Looks at me, calls me pretty
Trust me I know
But why all these guys keep calling me a ***
All they wanna do is see under my shirt
Push me against a wall and feel under my skirt
Wonder why I get mad when they treat me like trash
Like oh my bad, it's my fault you're an ***
Boy stop playing, this ain't a game
I'm sick of your **** so stop asking me to hang
Go get some other *****, some ***, some ****.
But you ain't getting me cuz I ain't a quick ****
I'm out

She was the definition of my name
She was the flowers that bloomed from the wounds that she healed
She was and always will be the ink that flowed from my pen when i wrote about her laughter that made me feel warm inside.
She saw right through me
She saw the mistakes i made
the mistakes that i used to tuck into bed with me
and she bought me a brand new bed
a brand new start
I could then say that i knew exactly what love looked like
love called me at midnight to make sure she was the first person to tell me happy birthday
love knew my favorite flavor ice cream
love knew what to say when i was crying
love knew how to make me smile again
love was there for all the fuckboys and drama
love knew me for me
love,loved me and i loved her.

i pay you back for your lack of attention with well aimed selfies at other men
snapchat carrying them faithfully across the pixelated airways
no evidence for you to find.

in the end, i resent everyone i love
for every opportunity that i stayed silent about what i really wanted
i resent them for my own flaws.
my quietness, my need to please.
i make myself a dog, and they pet my ego
just enough to keep me from leaving.

the curse of a fat stomach,
arms,
thighs,
attributes of a fat ***.
they can keep me in my place because i do not believe i am deserving
i've been taught that well,
but instagram makes me brave.
there are other girls like me
i stand on the foundation of the horror and humiliation they endure
in the hope of a better future
less fuckboys
less degradation
more equality
for my
fat
***

how much longer will i believe i have to put up with less than what i deserve
because i am lucky someone wants to **** me at all?
i don't think it will be long.
decades of socialization taught me to beg for every scrap
from a table laid for girls much thinner than i
but the tables are turning
resetting
rearranging
the playing field
is changing
fat is okay
fat is pretty
fat is normal
fat is just like anyone else
i just want to be treated
like everyone
else.

I'm throwing tantrums at the page I know that now.
I just want to see if they will stick
& what they will finally say
once I complete.
How many things can one word say
How many words can one page hold
How many girls can I **** in a lifetime
some or many
None.
Any.
Slip into my cinderblocks—pretty
New style,
smack Breaks tile,
Wait for the fuckboys to finish fillin up the fish tank, I'm at the bottom
feelin petty,
Suckin blue,
Countin out the seconds till I'm trapped beneath this filthy pool.
Thrash tantrum,
Flash forward,
Zoom zoom
I look up and wonder will the elephants come save me, but there's not one in the room,
nobody watchin
Im a goner,
and I've been one
ever since I started kicking in the water.

As the world dissolves into the vanity,
the speech is slurred and he can't really pay attention.
His eyes can't cease to get a mention,birds twitter coz his voice sounds better when day ends.
I really can't say when,
but since then he's been trapped..inside his mind he lives in the Garden of Weeden.
Trapped trapped trapped inside the walls of his subconscious mind, the garden of weeden, his nirvana, safe haven. Smoke inhaled, never exhaling, hold on tight, fingers clenched until the burning sensation makes him pay attention, I am saved, the garden of weeden, my nirvana.
Nirvana took my bravado,
I know I got what fuckboys don't.
When vaporised my words make them choke,
loss of their greatest hopes for what's dope.
Freedom stays cloaked in corrogated iron sheets,in a deep sleep induced by so-called "sweet dreams",but he astrals through this dimension.

Dimentia came and so did Fester,
their brains can't seem to process the controversial words.

But he does,
coz he's just on the highest peak of consciousness.
At his highest peak of consciousness, his kundalini risen, chakra's in alignment, he saw it all, the lies, the truth every ******* thing so clear to him, overwhelming to say the least, cathartic, he became catharsis.

Your arms wrap around my body almost as though they were meant for each other
But listen, listen to the sounds of the stars and the hum of the crickets and the echo when I tell you this isn't something I want to run into
I don't want to feel so empty, but the feeling of nothing in me has become so pleasing
Hence why I've stopped eating
Hence why I've stopped dreaming
Hence why I've stopped believing and
I love the smell of your cologne on the inside of my shirt and
I feel so much pride when you do something right, but
I have a reputation for falling for fuckboys and
I have a reputation for breaking their hearts as much
as they've broken mine

Can I call you?
At 2 am I can only talk for an hour...
Cause at 3 am,
They say it's the demons hour...
And boo I don't wanna turn on you
And go off on you,
Forgive me if I do it to you,
Your not the struggle that I've been through....

So lil baby can I ask you this?
Can I not be a love that your gonna ignore and miss?
Can you not carry the traits of these fuckboys I've been dismissed....
I didn't curve you,
When I probably could've..  
I didn't curve you,
Don't make me feel like I should've....

Can you call me ?
Make love to me with your voice,
Sing to me ,
Like Boys ll Men or
Dru Hill,
Back in the 90s?

Can you feel me ?
A chemistry similar like Jada & Will,
but imma need us to curve mfs,
and be ready to ****...
Those who hurt us....

Can you be for me ?
Like a baby without its binky?
Can you be the one to cry for me baby?
But man up because I'm the lady?


Can you love me for life?
I'm not trynna rush anything,
I just be thinking of things....
Your love could be the best thing...
Can you be for me?

I don't wanna have anymore games...
Not another chess piece....
Not another missing puzzle piece....

Maybe what I'm trynna say is...
Darling can you really love me ?

Verse 1:
Our eyes meet
Feel the heat
Have to take a seat
For a beat
I can't speak
Can't even breathe
You sweetly sweep me
Off my feet completely
Weak in the knees
Can't help but stare at your back
Hoping you'll look up and stare at me back
I would approach you but I lack the tact
Fuckboys all that I attract
Does not take a genius to see that
Out of my league and that's a fact
Working up nerve to make some sort of sound
That exact instant you turn around
I tell by your smile you feel the butterflies flutter
In your gut
Get up
Put one foot in front of the other
Strut towards me
I am struck
Muscles melting like butter
Ask for a light
My voice is stuck
But I stutter
A muttered reply
****** up
Not even drunk or high
You ignite not just your cigarette
But a fire inside
Exciting sides of me I thought had died
I can't hide

Hook:
I'm a spacebound rocketship and your heart's the moon
And I'm aiming right at you
Right at you
250,000 miles on a clear night in June
And I'm so lost without you
Without you

Verse 2:
I finally feel like I have reason to live
Maybe an angel like you could forgive
For the things I couldn't give
For all of the dumb things I did
****
No joke
I tripped over you and fell
Too deep of water to swim so I flail
For a moment forget where I am and can't tell
Apart from copycats imitating well
Be exactly like us
They want to excel
In a phony heaven but life is really hell
Scream my color but the world is black and white
And backdrops move but you remain in my sight
But you found me alright
The truth in dead of night
Like a screenplay I might write
And for once get it right
Sitting there in front of me like I got my happy ending tonight
I felt simple for the first time in my over-complicated life

(Hook)

Verse 3:
Processing in your head what the **** I just said
Marriage is a concept way over your head
So you reject my proposal with a shake of your head
and break my heart as easily as you break communion bread
Walk all your good intentions out the door instead
If you don't want to spend your life with me you might as well be dead
Alas the long awaited impending end has arrived with dread
I grasp at missed chances but every last one has fled
My mind keeps on warping
How much more can it bend?
Till it finally is broken?
Hoping for days tears will end and peace will be awoken
I toss and leave my fears with you to keep as a token
Use silence because this time goodnight is better left unspoken

Bridge:
I should have never expected you to feel the same
I shall embrace the misery and face the constant pain
Escape from day to day sorrow and give in to the stress
While body sleeps my brain will fly away and reminisce

(Hook)

Gimmie that
Red, white, and blue
Guess ******* who
Sling and grenades on our backs
Hold down my hat
Dress her all up in white
He got his tie on
We gonna perform a lap dance
With our tinsels and our tongue.

Homeboy he so sweet, got me on repeat
If I could throw down all the safety nets
We wouldn't quit just yet
My nails long and strong
But I fear all the fuckboys doin' me wrong

We gonna
We gonna get
We gonna get married
I look so good, so sweet
Standing off to the side while you on stage
Kissed ya full on the lips
The night my movie dropped
Pop, pop goes the weasel
Our brains combined
Could create the best
Love child
But baby you my best friend, would create
Mayhem with or without you
But please don't go that way
Don't want you to ever not stay
And if we play this game
It might turn out that way.

I smoked some **** after we got off the phone
Drown myself in peanut butter
Got that writers block
At times I do, I think I'm just a thot
But we promise hugs galore
I would pray but I don't believe in God much
So I let my spirituality sweet sun rise
Kingdom, thinkin' and speakin'
Praises to the dirt, the earth, the sky
Make me new, make me new.

Its true, I do love you
But it can't be like that
No, it can't be like that
You ain't evil
But I got witches brew
Reply back with your rhymes and reason
If you brave.

When I was a kid...I was innocent
Believing everything was just perfect,
Or if it wasn't perfect, it would work out when the time called for it
However, when I grew up that innocent mind died
Shot at point blank range right in the eye
Causing me realize that society was ****** up  from the inside
Crying tears that was made up of this substance that leaked from other bloodlines
Now I sit here wondering how did I miss this as a child
Was I that naive that I believed everything was made up of sunshine and rainbows
Completely ignoring all these ugly *** fuckboys and ***** hoes
Now I'm just soaked in my own rage and regret
Failing to determine if I'm just getting angrier or if society is getting stupider
So I just scream at the top of my lungs screams
Falling through the ground still pondering as to what happened here
No seriously, someone please tell me what happened here

Beware the snakes beneath your feet
Beware the guys who are lonely and nice.
Beware the ones who lie with smiles
And look at you with hidden lust

Listen to the voice in your head,
The one screaming "Beware!"
As soon as you turn your back the viper will be there
He is always lurking, nipping at your heals
Making you think your safe while waiting to strike
He will put candy in your drink or let you doom yourself

You've given me no reason to doubt,
yet I find myself wanting to escape.
This feeling in my gut, I head it's urgent warnings
Stay with the crowd, don't let him get too close.

What is going through your head?
What do you really think?
What goes through your mind when you look at me?
You say let's have a drink.

You scared me, so I reacted.
I hurt you, as witnessed by the angry red on your skin.
It was all fun and games, at least at the time.
And it makes me sick to think
That you liked it when I did that
When I showed you my strength

Beware the cunning snake, they are the most unpredictable
At least fuckboys know their jerks,
You know what their after.
What you see is what you get,
It's almost honest in a sense.

Looking back I see it,
All the little signs.
Good thing I stayed clear
Good thing I drew the line

It is obsessive,
Your emotions towards me.
You would hurt me if you thought it best
You would tell me not to cry
Whispering delusional I love you' s

I am always looking for you
Expecting to see you watching
Cause I am afraid of the beast I unleashed
When I gave you nothing

I saw it in your eyes very briefly,
The anger and coldness.
The reason to keep my distance.
I'm glad I broke your heart
So I'm not put in unwanted positions

You tell me your sick
I question your words.
If its pity your after,
If your trying to make me stay,
Well I'm sorry to tell you,
But this stops today

You're drowning
And I won't let you pull me down too,
So I block you on snapchat, on Facebook, and Insta.
I delete your number and the voicemails you left,
Because the relief I feel lets me know
That I made the right choice by letting you go.

i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
i held my sister while she
fell apart in my arms because
her lover of eight months suddenly told her that
he didn't love her anymore,
and i'm not sure how many times i can stitch her back up
before the cuts are too deep
to be sewn.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
my best friend has had her heart broken
too many times to count,
feeble-minded fuckboys or
temperamental tantrums because
she didn't love them back and they decided to
cut all ties.
never once did she get an apology.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
every single one of my past
flirtationships
have ended in loss
one way or another,
him or me-- it doesn't matter how
because
i'm still alone.
i'm trying hard to
believe in love but
in a world like this,
it's hard to hold onto something
so fleeting.

I'm a closet hopeless romantic
hiding my heart away under the facade
of having a block of ice in its place;
an empath in an apath's clothing.  
I can pick out the fuckboys from a mile away,
hands tied behind my back and blindfolded.  
I don't want your meaningless physical touch.  
Why settle for something less
when I can just do the job better myself?  
What I crave is that connection.  
The kind you feel upon first locking eyes,
where your soul and their soul interacts,
and something just clicks.  
When two people share that soul connection,
it's not just *******,
it's a whole beautiful experience.
And though it's only been a few moments
since I had something like this,
to my soul,
it feels like a millennia

Life is a challenge, you lose your way for a minute, I promise minutes later you’ll forever resent it
Her emotions in charge of what to post and not to post but either way we’ll give it a like or a heart
Because we’ll never turn our back on her because she was faithful to her followers from the start
Mr. Wrong sent her a winter bae application and we hope she declines it
Just because her followers still send her Valentine’s Day requests hoping she doesn’t deny it
When she told her following that she’s been feeling lonely and too single lately
I was the first to realize the right dude probably hasn’t crossed her maybe
There was a time I was prepared to make her my girlfriend maybe
I liked what she stood for and I wasn’t talking about the national anthem
If she became a famous model, I would be the only one to watch her go from rags to riches before she reached super fandom
I remember when she used to have a DM filled with the whole variety of dudes and how they usually come
The fuckboys, the players, fake photographers, scam artist, and shy quiet guys who have a problem socializing because of anxiety
She posts a picture and her following likes it while my brain is telling me do the same but my right hand is fighting me
But eventually the fame goes to her head and she starts acting like her following never existed and we weren’t with her from the beginning, ****
I wonder what happened
Maybe it’s my fault for always falling for a pretty face with makeup with nails and hair done
And once that makeup comes off so does the personality
And all those faces and personas but I can thank makeup tutorials for making that my reality
****
That’s what I get for being attracted to the exterior without getting to understand the interior
Now everytime I look at her I feel so inferior
But no matter what I’ll always be another face behind the phone doing my social media shadowing
But now that she’s all popular I’ll always be apart of her following

I was raised in a religious small town where ***** and fuckboys were shamed at churches and praised at school.
I hung out with the geniuses and political kids. As a writer I had the most fun with the geniuses and political kids. Always a new topic to discuss that weren't people we knew just random, exciting stories we heard on the news. We brought Writer's Club and Marching Band inside jokes to our group of misfit people. Poetry, abuse, life, death and politics shared at one table. We didn't care about popularity nor whose rank was higher just nerds with big dreams. Popular people tried and failed to copy what we nerds had. We nerds with big dreams are still chasing our dreams and making them a reality.
What Kind of Human Are You? If I didn't mention you as a goth kid or agriculture geeks. Let me know. Maybe I just haven't got to that story yet.

One time I felt like I was ice skating on Lake Michigan in a blizzard.
I lost the shoreline forever.
And the grip of fear.
I was out of place like a 14 year old listening to Hejira.
I still feel so in a way.
No gazing at my rear.
I got laid in my hometown and I sneer at my childhood friends like I never loved them.
I’ve been different 20 people since my birth and I feel like I’ve found the one that suits me best.
Like a fuzzy coat in winter, taking meds, healing slowly, **** my ex, I’m skating on Lake Michigan, baggage back in Madison, far from wifi, farther from home, I feel nothing but nipping from the frigidity and tight embrace of freedom.
I skate on into the blizzard and I haven’t seen a winter so winter-like since I rode on a sleigh pulled by my uncle’s car ‘round my beloved apartment complex.
All I see is white.
Like a fresh page of life.
You sow nothing, you get nothing.
Find no weevils in your garden, sweet fruit either.
That’s why I’m leaving y’all to concentrate on what I want and I skate into the nothingness of Lake Michigan, where only frostbite’s capable of breaking my heart.
It’s just a rest stop though.
I’ve yet to rise in love.
I’ll have my pasta date in Paris someday.
I’ll regret wasting my first real kiss with a hookup, I just didn’t wanna die a ******, so I squandered something artificial, boo-*******-hoo, life’s a travelog, put my fuckboys’ names in a catalog, remember what they gave me.
So let me swirl around, draw curvy lines, interlacing hearts.
Privately pretty.
Let me daydream of the day when I feel pretty as to get me some, when I dive into his ***** arms, wrap them round me like a shawl I’ve never worn, but feel like home.
I’m skating on Lake Michigan, left my heart in Madison, en route to Manhattan.
And I’m on the mending route of heart.