If you were a book
I would stay up all night
Feverishly flipping pages
Soaking up every single syllable
To know your ending

If you were a tropical island
I would explore your lush, secret interior
Spending long, lazy afternoons naked
Sun drunk on your shores

If you were a ***** joke
I would throw my cackles to the ceiling
Careful to not burst windows
Making sure to retell you often
Your punch line only gets better

If you were a roller coaster
I would wait in line for half the day
Just to be caressed by your safety harness soaked in other's sweat
Not to mention your talent with G-spots, I mean forces

If you were early morning
I would brew you strong and extra hot
Sipping cautiously at your porcelain edges
Watching blue smoke lazily curl
Then taking deep gulps as you cool
Buzzed on you til the afternoon

If you were mine
I would fill up your long dried and crusted ink wells
Encourage your laughter to come out to play
But above all
I would love you. Madly.

somewhere between asleep and in love,
i am sad but not too sad.
tonight it finally feels like the right amount.
he does not love me, but it's okay.
he does not know what love is,
and neither do i,
not really.
i may as well give up now,
but i don't mind anymore.
it has been raining for days,
and everybody gets wet.
i am not the only one who thinks about dying.

For all of the things I want and wish you loved more often

your rapid thinking
your turning night into day
and your laugh that floats in amusement

your calming soul
and your dimple that shows
when you indulge in a genuine smile

your stomach
your selfless nature
and your strong grip on any remaining innocence

your honesty
and movement
and self control
although seemingly unhelpful
they make you a strong woman
something our society needs

your ability to choose
your own thoughts and choices
to disregard trends
and clothe yourself in a pity-less lifestyle

you are what i strive to be and what i am lucky enough to have today

She's dark, yet
moonlight glows
inside her soft-eyes
& despite her
tragic-aura,
I still want
her blackness,
to taste her magic,
to kiss
the devil inside her.

Patrick was a naughty boy
he was always pulling my skirt up
he was like it with all the girls
trying to look at our knickers

Mum tells me to wear a petticoat
so Patrick that nasty boy
can not creep up behind me
to take a sneaky peek

I will slap him so hard
if he tries It on again
I will stop playing with him
and find another friend

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

There was a boy in my batch,
his name was Patrick.
I remember he was always fun
he always would spread the love.
And nothing could stop him,
when he wanted to give you a hug.
People say he was the best,
he literally was
better then all thees gone  rest.
Now hes gone,
he will never come back
and I wish I could hang out with him
just one more time.

I'll really miss the his laugh
lights up the room in an instant
I'll really miss the way his jokes
were the essence of anytime you were with him
he was in all aspects,
awesome.

I cant really think straight
now that hes gone,
and thats why this poem
might just **** as hell
but its ok,
I just want people to know how he was.

He was always smiling
and trying to make people better
and better.
He might get physical
but it was all in good humor.
To know Patrick was to love Patrick.

I sit in now in public,
desperately trying to fight
the tears with all my might
but its not working,
I'l forever miss the way
he would befriend those he didnt know
in an instant.
To him it didnt matter who you were
nothing mattered.

I cant believe that now hes gone,
The tears in my eyes
are now the most important reminders of his life.
I sit now,
my emotions desolate
void of joy and happiness,
I wish I could have just one last talk,
but I cant.
So I'll hang onto what we would talk about
in hopes i can meet him again and
we could talk.

With a pen in one hand
And a blade in the other
She's back at it again.