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ZETA Jun 2013
Why must you be bad*

This question is almost to easy to answer.

As I bring up the courage to let loose the truth a grin appears on my tanned lips

* Well, I like being bad
ZETA Jun 2013
We wake to the soft sounds of ecstasy lingering in the air from last night.
bon Matin leaves your lips as I trace them with my tiny brown fingertips glossed with a sultry red polish I leave your lips and wander to your neck and find my self lost in your collar bones pushing through your pale glossy skin.

It's Like ivory I whisper into your neck my nose ring grazes your jawline
My wandering hands continue on the beautiful journey to your chest beating slow and heavy my long wavy hair like the night sky falls perfectly on your chest as my amber eyes meet yours
vos yeux sont magnifiques
We pitter patter against the wooden boards of our small apartment in France our naked bodies touching.
We are only two.
We are small in France.
ZETA May 2013
Brown. So simple. So magnificent. So you. The way you let the world dance across your eyes and, let it tantalize your every thought is utterly amazing. When you open your eyes from every blink. it's different. Every time.
ZETA May 2013
I feel trapped by these dark heavy clothes. Dreams of nakedness overwhelm my brain, like the waves pass over and over again on the white sandy beaches.  My brown skin glows in the sun like an amazonian running free, like the raging river. Teeth so white peak out from my tanned lips to speak words pure and beautiful. Black hair that flows the curves of my hips and the sultry whispers of the wind. I got feet, that stick to the ground like roots of a tree reaching up, stretching to kiss the humid sky.  I got these legs that carry me on this beautiful land. South America I say in your ear. I have passed the beauty to you now.
ZETA May 2013
Nobody cares so I'm
have some more drugs.
Gonna take three more
pills from the pill box.

I have to fall in a deep
sleep tonight.
So tomorrow when I wake
up I feel alright.
ZETA May 2013
Smoke enters my lungs and I begin to travel into a another world. One without any worries and without any fears.  I don't feel corrupted by society here. Maybe that's what I visit so often. I can hear the padded voices of my mom and dad asking me to come back.
" Were sorry" They say.
We're sorry that this happened to you.
I can't come back. My brain tells me no. Don't leave. I'm trapped. And I like that.
ZETA May 2013
I like **** photographs. The beautiful ones. Black and white bodies silhouetted, frozen in time. Long legs with pointed toes dance across my brown eyes, leaving me wanting more. Arms reach, and stretch to grab my baby cheeks. I see her collar bones and I feel so peaceful. I've never seen something so beautiful. So graceful and fluid. Just like roaring waves of an ocean, her hips curve into her legs and follow through. Her photo haunts me. But it makes me feel alive. I appreciate her body, and how god made her so lovely. So fair. I love her.
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