I concede that
I am a mess. I am a
massive pile of
insecurities, despondence
and cigarette ashes.
I cannot apologize for
the squalor, all I can do
is clean it up
as best as I can
because I like you
that much.
I like you
too much.

You should be here with
me in this voided
hemisphere beneath the
blanket of stars. They’re
shimmering off excess
star dust and they fall
down in specks of azure
and violet as if heaven wants
to come and visit. You
should be embracing me
with your tender arms,
shielding me from harms
way, making sure I’m
secure and safe in case the
stars somehow gained gravity
and came crashing down
on to the Earth. You should
be treading your tongue in
the hollows be hide my
lips, collecting my vapid
saliva white shooting
stars glide across the
sky. You should be
here with me,
but you’re not.

Stop.

You can’t keep
treading your approximate
hands full of lust upon my skin
when your dulcet eyes
gazing upon my face
are full of love

You Are To Blame

My skin is decaying
to the bone,
My limbs are
broken and useless,
My voice is
hoarse- it's barely
a whisper,
My senses
have failed,
I am weak and
it's all your fault.

Untitled

You're heart shouldn't be

this apathetic towards

the world,

there's so many things to

look forward to,

my love,

you were once so sweet

and had a certain 

mature innocence to you

and now you're so moody

and harsh,

please, I beg you,

stop it,

you are beautiful and I

wouldn't want you

any other way.

Bare Your Soul #2

Waking up at the crack of dawn, hearing his soothing, genial voice was like hearing the radiance of an acoustic guitar playing. He stretched his arms upon his head and gave me a lazy smile and greeted me good morning. My soul tingled with electricity. He started to untangle himself from the sheets. Bare naked, his bronze, sun-kissed skin glowed in the dim, gleaming sunlight. He layed next to me, getting in tune with his surroundings, staring at the ceiling with what seemed like a curious fascination. All I could do was stare at his beauty. He doesn't look a thing like James Dean. He doesn't have a muscular structure. In fact, he was quite opposite. But those things do not matter. I'm indifferent with his "lack of fantasy qualities" the typical girl would desire in a man. My hand aches to caress his cheek, to feel his stuble and appreciate all his imperfections, but I restrain it from doing so, not wanting to put him in exasperation. He reaches over to the nightstand grabbing a lighter and cigarette. He places the cigarette between his lips, opening the lighter and watches the end of the cigarette burn crisp, inhaling the nicotine and tobacco. Thin mist of smoke dances up to the ceiling, extending its imaginary limbs to the depths of the room, swirling and twirling like a ballerina. He flicks his ashes and turns his head towards me, beaming with bliss. We uphold our gazes, our brown eyes connecting to each others soul. He grabs my chin with his free hand, pulls me in and lightly kisses my lips, gazing back into my eyes, "I'll go get breakfast." he happily announces.He slips into his over sized shirt, favorite carpi pants and over-worn flip flops. He slithers his fingers through his soft, silky hair, grabs his car keys and wallet and greets me goodbye, dancing out of the door. As soon as I hear his engine start up and his wheels reeving down the the street I sigh of relife and weap of lingering despair. I curl up in a ball under the thin, vulnerable sheets, letting my tears travel one by one down my cheeks. When I am with him, a mask is on. I hide my true feelings and lock up all emotions, swallowing the key. But see, when he is no where near my presence, I hurl the key from my inside, unlock my emotions from my chamber and let myself acknowledge that he is what I can never have. I treat him the way a lover should treat the one they love.
But I am not his lover and he is not mine.

Rainy Day

     She sat at the booth by the window, stirring her morning coffee with a spoon. She gazed out the window admiring the rain. She watched it- a million water drops kissing the ground and ribbons of light wiping the sky. She couldn't help but smile, beaming with a sense of comfort. There was something about the rain that made her feel at home no matter where she was. Whatever worries were weighing on her shoulders, the rain would melt them away, slowly but surely, washing away the excess debris. It was Monday morning, which she considered to be the worst morning of the week, but the rain made it tolerable. She took a sip of her coffee and picked up her lit cigrattee from the tables' ash tray with her free hand and traded the coffee for a delightful, placid drag. The rain got heavier, attacking the windows and the rooftops. Looking outside, everything was blurry. A hazy dream almost. She sighed, even more comfortable and content than before. She placed a 5 dollar bill on the table and causually walked out of the diner's doors. People outside where rushing with their hoods on and umberlla's over their heads into the nearest shelter possible. She smikered to herself. "Why can't they just enjoy the beautifully, chaotic day?" she asked herself.
    She walked out in the rain with great pride. No hood. No umbrella. Just her and the habiliments she was in. She was instantly soaked within the first 5 seconds. Her curly, brown hair was no longer made to perfections, her make up was completely washed off. But she mind no bit, she was utterly callous. She loved the rain. She appreciated the rain. It seemed like the only thing in the world that understood her and her emotions.