Though I style my curly braids with ribbons bright,
and colour my sweet moist lips with royal red
to look as bright and fair as a newly wed.
Though I stand on two towers to get a better height,
with eyelashes that beckon at each gazer.
Though my trendy gowns make me a trailblazer
with great designer labels that distinguish.
Though I have curves which men wished they could relish,
revealed slightly through my ******* clad frame.
Though I have this charm which could hardened hearts tame,
making vicious criminals to dream and lust,
still I am nothing more than organic dust.

a man's word
is all he has,
a poet's word
may just be
a pipe dream.

she's got eyes blue enough to swim in,
deep enough to drown in.
she'll make you want to get lost at sea.
i didn't know it was possible to love the undertow
until i met her.
she will draw you in
just like the moon pulls the tide
in an attempt to keep the two bodies together.
yet she will ward you off,
keep you at bay.
it's hard to fall in love with a sailing ship from the dock.
she is a beacon of light too bright to observe.
her hands are the coldest you'll ever hold;
i think her heart is too.
she's always been too scared and unprepared
to let anyone get close to her.

the girl that carries the weight of the world on her shoulders
but isn't strong enough to walk away.
j.c.