"inhales" poems
afternoon light shining in through the sheer curtains hanging over my bedroom window, on the most ordinary day of the week, your arms were around me and my head was on your chest as it slowly rose and fell, and you twitch as you’re falling asleep, and i never thought i could fall in love with the sound of someone snoring, but your sleepy inhales made my heart swell, and since then, the day has been a series of heavy exhales. i can feel the weight of you behind my ribs and in the corners of my mouth as i smile at the thought of kissing you, your laugh, the way your eyes look when they’re looking at me, the sound of your voice when you’re trying to get music to play in your car, how i feel when i can feel you next to me; i hope you don’t mind, but no matter what time or space is between us, you’ve written your name in the sand of my soul and no amount of wind or waves will ever be able to wash it away. the time we’ve spent together feels like seconds, but you will always exist in my memory as someone who held my hand as i walked into the sun.
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
the electricity runs through our veins
and past the street signs we rumble by
in the car you stole, we go fifty above the speed limit,
the roof of the car is the noir sky above
and the midnight rain pelts our upturned faces
the dancing drops of water drip onto our smiling lips
the sound of the sky collapsing
echoes the flashes that streak the sky,
the flickering light casts paved roads with a brief brightness
(as if god were wearing light up sketchers)
the lacy brallette that wears me
gives me the bravery to stand up in the speeding car
the velvet pants that ripple with the wind
drink up the nighttime rain
and the rare headlights race past us,
heading into homes and hearts
the mellow playlist that connects the aux cord to our ears blasts
so loud, we can no longer hear our insecurity
the mascara that once clung to my eyelashes
now streams down my face.
on a two way street,
we drive down the middle
unafraid in the face of direct dangers
so unaware of the towering empty skyscrapers
and instead highly exhilarated
from the street signs we drive by
too fast to read the blocky lettering
the road signs glint, smiling as we wave and reach towards them
the cigarettes you smoked are thrown through the open window,
still smothering slightly.
i can still taste the smoke on your lips
and your hand tucks my hair behind my ear
and as the wind objects and inhales
unreal in the hazy a.m. car trip
the tunnel rushes towards us,
and we both hold our breaths,
as if breathing would contaminate us.
the lights that glint, cast a yellow-white glow
and for once, i see you for who you are
a boy too buzzed to feel
a kid who only felt "sort of"
a person who couldn't heal
and a lover who could never give love
Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 3:34 AM UTC
Outside,
the snow is serenely falling
its illuminated resplendence
vying with that of the full moon
suspended in the silent night sky.
Inside,
it is just as silent
the only sounds the occasional spark and crackle
of the logs in the fireplace.
And two hearts harmoniously beating.
Wisps of smoke coyly rise from the sandalwood incense
gracefully whirling in the air like dervishes,
the room redolent with the fragrance of serenity
As I repose on the couch,
your head upon my lap,
you hold one hand against your rhythmically beating heart;
while with the other
I absently play with your hair.
There are no thoughts,
only heart thinking.
There is no speech,
only heart speaking.
There are no words,
only heart spilling.
~
You slowly rise from my lap and look through my eyes
and into my soul.
When I come to speak,
you gently place a loving finger against my lips,
whispering
“shhh“
Time revolves all around us,
yet within us — stillness;
the silence palpable.
Our souls become one
with the other,
with the tranquility of the night,
with the gently falling snow.
Our breathing falls in sync to a rhythm known only to the cosmos.
At the end of our inhales,
there you are.
there I am.
And then you speak..
three words..
Three words that contain the universe within them:
“This is bliss“
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
on tuesday,
dylann roof was sentenced to his death.
on tuesday we tried
to make one body feel like nine.
to make one body feel like justice.
on tuesday we said
there has got to be some price to pay
for entering the house of god
with a sinful tongue
and a handgun.
today,
six days later,
we remembered the rev. dr. martin luther king, jr.
we looked at the world,
called it a place with potential for change,
called it that because there has to be some softer way
to look at bloodshed,
for sanity’s sake.
if not then
all that remains is a solitary image of dr. king rolling in his grave because he knows,
knows that breathless black bodies
are a constant,
are transcenders of time,
whether sunken in rivers,
hung from taut ropes,
or bathing in blood on historic church floors,
singing, singing, screaming, shrill
for some messiah bringing mercy, mercy, mercy.
felicia sanders wants mercy:
prays for it, wills it down from up above,
unfolded from the hands of god
so that it might fall upon the head and in the eyes
and within the very being
of the man who killed her son.
it takes a certain grace —
one so foreign to me i can hardly write of it —
to see god in such men who deliberately defy Him,
to ask that heaven’s gates
be so indiscriminate and overt.
i would want him to burn for this.
but it is not my say,
not my life,
not my long, resounding, unflinching “hallelujah!”
not my certain type of grace.
breathless black bodies
are a constant,
are transcenders of time, a recurring motif.
but so too, then, is the black body full
of breath,
that inhales and exhales faith
without ceasing.
such is the black body
that sees a little bit of god in dylann roof,
that prays that he prays for forgiveness,
that thinks there to be but one kingdom,
and he, too,
a worthy subject.
the solitary image of dr. king rolling in his grave
is not a surprise.
the black body has always known
so well
how to die.
but felicia sanders hopes her son’s killer finds mercy.
perhaps the one thing the black body has always known better
is how to love.
(a.m.)
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
I hate marijuana.
It is a class A drug for a reason.
It destroys your brain and brings anarchy to the world.
Me looks both ways to see if anyone around
ok mon, now dat da feds are gone, lets get ta business.
***Me inhales me blessed ******
**** is cool. It's actually really nice.
If ya t'ink otherwise, den ya better t'ink twice.
Me gonna tell you, why Reggae is my life.
Me love Reggae so much me wish it was me wife.
Marijane is me love. Spliffs and Reefers too.
Kush makes me so hot you'd t'ink I had da flu.
Why should ya smoke herb? Me gonna tell you why.
When ya smoke heaven's grass ya feel like ya gonna fly.
Away from all ya problems. Towards a purposeful end.
Makes ya feel, so nice. **** you will soon befriend.
******
hErb
Green
Grass
****
Everything Cook and Curry (Reggae term for "Everything is Fine")
REGGAE
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 9:32 PM UTC
As the smoke lingers off of her tongue,
you can see the smirk so evident on her face.
She traces the outline of her lips with her tongue
and gently inhales the cigarette smoke.
You can see the tiny glint of a ***** bottle on her nightstand
and the ashtray that is overwhelmed with burnt out cigarettes.
She is staring at the ceiling
and you have no idea what in the world she is thinking so hard about.
All you know is that you want to know.
And you want to know the way
her lips curve around the tempting neck of the ***** bottle,
or the way her tongue moves as she blows off smoke
from that cataclysmic cigarette she’s holding.
Alcohol and cigarettes,
that’s what everyone thinks ruins your life.
But those two things
are what saves hers.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC
I see she smokes cigarettes
& I wonder why she wants to die.
She sighs, "Personally,
it's my own method of suicide."
She inhales,
& blows out beautiful smoke rings.
Then she slashes away each one to nothing.
"There," she whispers,
"destruction by the creator."
She smiled softly and inhaled.
I understood what she said.
She was destroying herself,
because she blames herself,
for the final creation of herself.
3 more perfect smoke rings sighed out of her.
They were intense, honest, & powerful,
just like she was.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Thump,
thump,
thump,
faltered
breath
painful
inhales
but still
life.
It’s
my
only
comfort.
Just
making
sure
he’s
still
alive.
I couldn’t
imagine
never
hearing
that
heartbeat
ever
again.
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
Hello Monster,
I don’t know what you look like here.
But I can feel you coming back.
I knew you lived in his hands
Because it hurt
Whenever he put them on my hips
You sharpened my inhales
and they cut my heart on their way
to my lungs.
I knew how you poisoned my name
when they came out of her lips
because it sounded
like someone who looks better
with cut wrists.
she was broken anyway.
I grew to know you quite well.
You let go of my throat
and seemed to hold my hand
We were friends you
and I.
Maybe all it took was
a change of scenery.
My hair grew longer
and so did your claws.
And now I can’t see you until
I’m already bleeding.
I didn’t know how his eyes
on me, would make me
want to be skinny.
Until you were cutting away
all the parts around the edges
that had grown soft since
we stopped fighting.
Bony is beautiful
you whispered.
I didn’t know
you were in her back
until you showed me
how it bends when
it turns away from me.
I didn’t know you were in my knees
that ache now as I chase
and crave someone's lips
on me in the dark.
Because maybe someone will
want me
when they can’t see me.
When they can’t see us.
You’re back inside of me.
I know you are.
And it scares me.
Because I’m starting to see you again.
You look just like me.
Sincerely,
Emma
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:31 PM UTC
*On a bright and delightful Easter morning
A furry white rabbit, wiggled her pink adorable nose
Peeking through lush bushes
In a lovely and distinctive pose
And jiggled her cottony soft scut
Aiming into a vegetation
On this sunny day
With so much motivation
Quietly hopping into a blissful garden
Placing decorative filled eggs in pastels
With little time to rest
As she quickly inhales
Adding vibrant colours, to an emerald spiky blanket
And into a rainbow of unfolding tulips
Enlightening her way, like a dazzling carnival
For little peeps enjoyment, upon soft winds movement
Beginning in the latter daylight hours, as tots of all ages
Eagerly carried empty interwoven baskets, on their quest
Pacing through, as in peekaboo
And observing who competes the best*
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
Can I skip ahead in line, please?
Surely You can see ..
Plans haven't been going as planned
I've been roaming endlessly
I need not to say my goodbyes
They've waived me that dance, You see -
I tried jumping out of Earth last time
But I just fell back into the seas
It's like swimming in oceanic galaxies
Suffocating on infinite catastrophes
Just as my head reaches the surface
The heavens collapse over me
They say I know nothing of my tears -
Nor of the world I sense or feel
So they caged me deep within their ribs, You see -
They claim it is safer in here ..
My breaths are only fading, inside
My eyes have not the strength to seek -
The light on the other side of their flesh -
Of their flesh in which they buried me
So I have been roaming endlessly ..
Wounded. Lost. Cannot breathe ..
Befriended by tears. Blinded. I know not of sleep
I see souls in a queue not ready to leave;
They have exhales from inhales yet to be breathed
But I'm just an ink-less broken feather
Over papers I weep
I cannot write down my sorrows
But I'm sure, You can see ..
I'm ready to die oh Lord!
Can I skip ahead in line, please?
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 8:22 PM UTC
*Venturing out
Into the woods.
Everything behind her
Is in Black and white -
Grey, but with a hope-filled
Blue sky.
Her red butterfly
Carries her transformed ideals
Within - it's always hovering close-by.
With every forward step,
Away from this manipulated
painful reality,
The scenery is painted,
Bringing it all to life -
A rainforest green;
Her sacred canopy.
Vivid,
Ever so bright,
Be it, by day,
Or, be it, by night.
Black and white do not exist
On this side of her world -
There's no grey!
Here, even shadows embrace
The blessed, illuminated,
Brilliant, pure light.
Doom,
Gloom,
And dullness,
Instantaneously banished!
Momentously replaced by
An addictive, elated state of vitality -
A miraculous invisible substance;
She embraces her newfound sanity!
Insanity just vanished!
Her aura
Paints her surroundings,
They are so alive -
In high definition, in full colour.
There are no toxins here,
No sorrow,
Nothing is needed,
Time stands still -
No need to borrow.
All of the brokenness
Is left behind,
She wanders off! -
Her soul
Free to unwind.
Here, she has no fear of heights -
There is a sacred comfort
In all that is phenomenally high,
And so,
In all that grows,
From deep down
Below.
She inhales purity
Into her lungs,
She exhales
All of her noxious emotions,
She sighs with relief,
As she lets them all go.
Sinking her feet
Into the rich ground,
Each footstep brings her closer
To the edge of her world;
This is where she is often found.
Here, she is free...
She asks herself "To stay, or to go?"
The answer, she already knows,
The soft breeze carries
This wanderlust decision away,
As the free-spirited wind
Gently blows.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And “we are unknown,” said Kung,
“You will take up charioteering?
“Then you will become known,
“Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
“Or the practice of public speaking?”
And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,”
And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province
“I would put it in better order than this is.”
And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple,
“With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,”
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
“The old swimming hole,
“And the boys flopping off the planks,
“Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.”
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
“Which had answered correctly?”
And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly,
“That is to say, each in his nature.”
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
“You old fool, come out of it,
“Get up and do something useful.”
And Kung said
“Respect a child’s faculties
“From the moment it inhales the clear air,
“But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect.”
And “When the prince has gathered about him
“All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.”
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him
He can not put order in his dominions.
And Kung gave the words “order”
and “brotherly deference”
And said nothing of the “life after death.”
And he said
“Anyone can run to excesses,
“It is easy to shoot past the mark,
“It is hard to stand firm in the middle.”
And they said: If a man commit ******
Should his father protect him, and hide him?
And Kung said:
He should hide him.
And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang
Although Kong-Tchang was in prison.
And he gave his niece to Nan-Young
although Nan-Young was out of office.
And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation,
“In his day the State was well kept,
“And even I can remember
“A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
“I mean, for things they didn’t know,
“But that time seems to be passing.
A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
But that time seems to be passing.”
And Kung said, “Without character you will
“be unable to play on that instrument
“Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.
“The blossoms of the apricot
“blow from the east to the west,
“And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
4.6k
A sigh signals some sort of disclosure.
– glancing over his eyeglass frames
at the slow downward tilt of her chest
her gingham blouse rises again
as she inhales energy for her words,
words intended to clarify or confuse,
he does not know.
His own exhale and a frowning brow
signal that he is listening-
to judge whether her statement
is real or fancy.
Her words a mercury for her mood
no gauge left as he guesses
seeking to understand her,
to crawl through her veins like a virus,
to know her every desire,
every expectation, even every fear.
He is adrift in his own flaws,
unable to grasp precisely her feelings, her expressions.
His distrust is great whether of himself or of her.
Salt honesty with caprice and tasty fare is spoiled.
Gripping the arm of his chair,
muscles straining to lurch forward,
he escapes toward the door
leaving her words
to fill the hollow behind him.
Tomorrow he may choose valor,
today the fear of authenticity scares him to his den.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
I
Tomorrow waits in the dried plant bones
splintering balcony karma
next to the ****** galatic twilight.
Moon poems paralyzing yonder
one color chess matches on transcended leather
--thigh laughter buried alive in rubble
under fifteen cushions of red flesh.
Let's go wave our bottom banners undying
in the realm of lifetimes and its spontaneous chases.
Plethora inhales
from one-legged warlords under fragrant wash pillars
obstructing the pilgrimage
of wrapping my stranger
around a blade. The second blameless pantheon
of Christianity.
II
put down the flowers,
thought scars
from a thirsty delusion
that taste the industry instruction
deep in meditation spoons
that pierce the sides of students. Heaven rains/*angelic ************
on the obscure sail drifting towards the horizon
--a mad-religious shape
from the bottom banners undying
III
there isn't even the smallest incense
that the earth's door shortens,
an attempt in debt
to defame the impregnable summer
with washroom axes
on the grape's night before you and I snap.
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
87
A darting fear—a pomp—a tear—
A waking on a morn
To find that what one waked for,
Inhales the different dawn.
3.7k
Down by two
the bruised-blue flesh
of the bronze butterfly's
escape through sacrifice,
flays the emotions..
Unwholesome the silence
that goes before her,
a sound like the heart
bound to beat like butterfly wings...
Gently her absence quick
upon me, inhales the night
and swiftly, the dark
sees only ease to relinquish
her candles sheathed in glass
epitaphs that collapse like veins
to fill the fluent air with the spare
embrace of the blue elements...
Down by two in the bottom of the ninth,
two out, two on, two strikes,
the soul's too tragic abhorrence of details
fails to deliver the impossible syntax
of apocalypse, on the lips
of a courteous Christ, crucified
by light, the night fades
far into the furthest exile...
Under a tropic of cancer,
her un-obscured brilliance
pierces the vault of heaven's vast
gathering of angels,
and their illegible scripture...
Shatters the soul in one primal
instant grand slam dream, quicksilver
through her midnight moment's landscape,
every cherished feature in flight, the light
of the bronze butterfly's escape
through sacrifice, to the silver flame
of moonlight's crucial adieu....
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
Her thighs, a moonflower opens—inhales the breath of night,
The wind, my hand, slips through the slit of her dress.
I lose the road—chest blooms, buds swell wet, her light—
Miles, a rising tide, lost at sea, her shore I can’t caress.
The wind, my hand, slips through the slit of her dress.
Buttons free her feral chest—rose in full bloom, my trembling fingers—moonlight.
Miles, a rising tide, lost at sea, her shore I can’t caress.
Her ******* moons, kissed by shadows—my lips lust for their tidal pull tonight.
Buttons free her feral chest—rose in full bloom, my trembling fingers—moonlight.
Her body, a blank page, turns—lioness eyes, lips parting petals, her bloom’s heat, my gift.
Her ******* moons, kissed by shadows—my lips lust for their tidal pull tonight.
My thighs, dew falls—her sighs, a warm ocean mist, our bodies, drift.
Her body, a blank page, turns—lioness eyes, lips parting petals, her bloom’s heat, my gift.
On windswept shores, we become as one, night birds harmonize ecstasy’s cries.
My thighs, dew falls—her sighs, a warm ocean mist, our bodies, drift.
Bodies crash, endless waves—thighs veiled in moonlit bliss, our nectar sipped, two fireflies.
On windswept shores, we become as one, night birds harmonize ecstasy’s cries.
Bodies crash, endless waves—thighs veiled in moonlit bliss, our nectar sipped, two fireflies.
I lose the road—chest blooms, buds swell wet, her light—
Reflections, mirror dark—hips pressed, lips locked, forever dream’s starlit twilight.
Jul 30, 2025
Jul 30, 2025 at 5:55 PM UTC
*
*
Sitting in the shade of ****** lilies, is
the blessed beauty, the Heart of Summer
Her skin, shimmering russet
Her eyes, molten gold
Her lips, pouty rose buds
Her hair, a slick raven halo
Her body, curvaceous and slender
Flaunted by her diaphanous lilac robe
Through her sculpted nose, she inhales the
warm clime; her feet upon the verdure.
As she walks through the gardens, the
flowers burst into blooms, trumpets
to the song of working honey bees.
Ahead is a lake, clear, crystal and celestine,
stars dance and wink upon the surface.
She picks the daisies and adorns it in
her hair, thinking of her great empery.
Here in the palms of light and love, there
is no sin and no pain.
She hears the ringing bells of
nature, the song of wings.
'For I love all life and light,' she smiles, 'and more,
I will bring.'
*
*
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 5:08 PM UTC
Camper bed
Comfy enough
Tiny for us
No good for ***
Perfect for cuddling
Curl up right in your arm
Feel you breathe in
Wait for you to breathe out
Match our inhales and exhales
Hoping to match up our hearts
Melting the two beats into one
Drifting off to sleep slowly
Blinking trying to stay awake
Smiling because you say my name
Whispering I love you’s
Closing my heavy eyes
Opening them to you
Brushing hair out of my face
Camper bed..
You are **** and love approved.
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 10:11 PM UTC
A candle in my hands
And I watch the panting flame
I see her idly breathing
Her heart pulsating
Vigorously, her body
Inhales the air of this deadened night
A candle in my trusting hands
I have been told my heart is on my sleeve
She is aching
She is sighing
She is wandering
What in the world have I done
A candle in my sighing hands
And the memory of that evening
Kiss my thoughts
A peck...
And I see your strong jaw
And eyes a perfect sight to find my gaze
A candle in my forgotten hands
I remember you gently easing my way
On the dance floor
Under the moonlight
Under the sun's forgotten face
As the darkness enveloped our skin
A candle in my nimble hands
And my hopeful eyes
Stare in wander
Stare in awe
At the intertwining branches
In your arms
Muscled and toiled with strength
A candle in my weak hands
And I stumble
Hold this candle
With all the strength I can muster
A candle in my terrified hands
As you leave
Footsteps drawn
Ready to go
My eyes screaming, my love
Please stay in my sanctuary
This haven made for you
A candle drops from my weak, crumbling hands
As my legs crash
Like a thunderous wave
To the platform
Unraised...
A flood plain
Where the ruby bleeds
Her reflected colours
From the flame...
A candle lies at my tip of my veiny, Shaking fingers
And you are gone
And the flame dances softly
At the tender touch
Of the Wind.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 1:13 AM UTC
he is the sun. I used to think the sun revolved around me but
then I found out that I am heliocentric and if stars were infinite he
would never die but we do not live in a type of universe
where love can survive long distance relationships with hallmark cards our
wrecked art is a fire and I cannot tell if you are the gasoline
or if I am a lighter and i cannot tell what difference that makes
or if I really care about either all i know is that space does not exist
to me all that is relevant is the distance between us and they
say young love does not exist they say that this is only infatuation
but it can't be because I know everything about him religion does
not exist if he can't go to heaven the world was not made to
last but he was because he is a shining ember that doesn't
burn he is a form of poetry that never ends he is my favorite book
the chapters are long but I can never get enough and the way
he lies right through his teeth like a magician just about to draw
a rabbit out of a hat is not okay the way he inhales the toxic fumes
of requiem into his lungs is not okay and I know it but the
world was not made to be survived the world was made to be lived
and every time he breathes I swear I feel infinite it's like I'm drowning
but I'm not falling and he is not the brightest star in the
galaxy but he is mine and he is special because he is the sun.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
It smells like snow.
The air whips crisply through
her lungs as she inhales.
It smells like new parchment.
The excitement of a new book
just waiting to be read.
It smells like Christmas.
Brings her back to when
even Santa Claus was real.
It smells like horses.
They always make her
feel completely free.
It smells like nostalgia,
brings the memories back.
It smells like regret,
pain follows each breathe.
It smells like fear,
that she had but one chance.
It smells like hope.
That fickle friend
promises to catch her,
but still lets her fall.
**And now
It smells like you.**
So full of the past
that I wish my lungs
would
stop.
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 1:55 AM UTC
I lost myself a century ago, you enchanted me with your egocentric smile and your eyes that glimmer, only to leave me hanging like your favorite movie you gave away because you already knew every line from tip to toe, you replaced me and I was too broken and blurred to even hesitate so I just walked away but kept looking back because anyone whose ever loved you or has the slightest idea of how truly fascinating you are is aware of how absolutely twisted it would be to let go of you.
My biggest desire is for me to be half as incredible as you know you are and maybe then you would think twice before letting me go into my own tomb.
You signed my death sentence when you uttered the words that burned my throat smashed my bones and left me wishing I was somewhere in Mars.
And not even there, in that deserted planet that inhales awkward girl's dreams and exhales them because they are far too ridiculous for the real world while dying from the lack of oxygen and the intense heat that came in through the lips you once kissed and made a tour through my broken self only to permanently stay in my shattered lonely heart, not even then had I preferred to be conscious when you chose her over me, rejecting me forever.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 3:07 AM UTC