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  Apr 2020 wreckingball
Dark soul
Bite
  marks
are
   love
notes
   written
in
   flesh ...
So
   let
me
   bite
you
   hard
and
   make
you
  moan .
  Apr 2020 wreckingball
Nimbus
I can no longer hide
My soul ignited

once disparaged
I long to share it

The chills in my spine put into words

Lips on skin
Eyes filled with sin

What is this sensation

I drip colors you cannot see

Heightening my passion
Enhancing my touch

Raw emotion channeled as such

My desire aches
The color of flush
My cage breaks
Expressions of lust

I do not fear it
I can hear you blush

My favorite sound

Our souls combust
My restless soul longs for something fulfilling
  Apr 2020 wreckingball
soliana
she gave me her nudes
she was bare
and naked
and so out
and open
and i willingly
accepted it
because it wasnt the nudes
that showed her body
the physical aspects
that made her beautiful
it was the words
she didnt choose
and the spontaneity
that left her
either from her lips
or her fingers
or ink

she was as bare
as her nudes
and i accepted
her for her.
10:02 PM 5/1/2018
  Apr 2020 wreckingball
LS
when a poet falls in love with you
you can never die
they will notice the way
you rub your palms and look down
when someone is angry at you
and the way you smirk
as you pull away from a kiss

they will notice how you can't sleep
without your body touching someone else's
how you never crease any pages of books
and how you close your eyes when you dance in your kitchen
with your record player on

they will find all of the words
that they see you as
and turn them into something beautiful

people say you die twice
once when you stop breathing
and when someone says your name
for the last time

if you fall in love with a poet
they will never stop
mentioning your name
you will be alive
for eternity
  Apr 2020 wreckingball
basil
things fell apart
and the pieces
didn't land in all
the right places

but some things
weren't meant
to be
put back together
  Mar 2020 wreckingball
autumn
even after wasted time
i continue
to waste
the day
away.

the blood drips
from my trembling fingers
painting red stains
upon the pages
of a chapter

a chapter
in my book
in our story
in which it has
already been written
already been read
already been
forgotten.

yet i still sit idly
with my head
against this wall
as the pit of fear
in my stomach
grows and deepens
and as the sun sets
beneath my windowsill

waiting for you.
You've given me tons of reasons to leave,
But I still stay
Because those reasons weren't enough
To keep me away
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