prophecy...

And now I have to face up to this; I have made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. 
You watched me and you did not realise, but I only have myself to blame. 
Shame.

It didn't have to be this way, but I made it so. 
Again.

The self fulfilling prophecy perpetuates.

when the moon...

....grows acidic to the eyes....

“My parents spent over a decade with their
fingers intertwined, serving as a shield for
one another to take cover behind when the 
world threw punches that could crack skulls
and shatter spirits. Over time, their grip
wavered, thus resulting in what their hearts
once housed so delicately to vanish.
I was born into warm arms, welcomed into
a house built by calloused hands that were
later used to grab at throats. My heart soon
grew exhausted of the crass insults thrown
off of tongues like blessings and instead
shut down, constructing walls in order to
deflect their brutal sting.
Comfort came to me in the eyes of someone
who made a monument of my broken body,
who healed wounds on my wrists like they
were mere paper-cuts. I stood on cliffs and
they pulled me back by the collar of my 
shirt, spinning me around and forcing a kiss
upon my lips that caused me to hug the
ground my feet stood on, promising to never
try and leap from it again.
But time causes people to grow bored and I
was not an exception to its cruel ways. 
I never saw those eyes look at me with wanderlust
overtaking them at the sight of my form, nor
did I ever understand what was wrong with me
to cause them to walk away. I thought I could
do the same too; they made it look so easy 
after all. So I let myself become a drug to 
addicts whose veins I never wanted to flow
through but it gave me purpose, so I continued.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel comfortable in
someone else’s arms again.”

zeff wolf...

night...

night-
the time when clock slows down
the time when he let himself drown
the silence that filled the air
the silence of his beats

night-
the time when the clock runs wild
the time when she let herself rise
the song that sharpen the silence
the songs of her cries

-khad.h

neruda...

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. 
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day 
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps…

dont fall for the boy...

“

Sometimes he gets to know your mind in attempts to know your body & that is the worst kind of boy there is.

You won’t know he’s poison until you kiss him so fuck it, if he’s gonna take the air from your lungs anyway, kiss him like you’re drowning.

You will be tomorrow.

He’s going to ask you to write him a poem with your fingertips on his bare skin, don’t do it.

He’s gonna take the stars from the sky & pour them in your favorite champagne so it’ll never taste the same when you drink it without him, drink it anyway.

He’s going to drain the happiness from your veins but you’ll find it again.. one day.

You’ll tell him your secrets & when he stops talking to you, you’ll feel them spill from his lips, don’t you dare regret it.

He’ll tell you you’re beautiful with his hand on your thigh, he doesn’t mean it, he just wants to dim the light in your eyes.

He just wants to conquer you. And he will.

Don’t feel used. He needed the love pouring from your body more than you did, you won’t be empty forever, love is infinite.

”

good...

Stay where you are
Let my hands do the work
They’re free
And have a mind of their own
I like to see you there
My man sitting where he’s told
I’ll take control
My hands are eager
And they wish to roam
Wherever they please
In the soft waves and curls of your hair
My fingers feeling along the softness
Of your lips
A lovely shade 
Even better when smeared with my lipstick
I know you’re excited
Wish to remove your shirt
Just wait darling
I’ll free you 
In due time
I can see the anticipation building
Driving you mad
That’s how I like it
Your hands may be much bigger
But mine have more tricks
Just rest
Rest
Allow me to remove my dress
But keep your hands
Where they are
In your lap I see
No surprise from me
Oh how you wish to run your hands
Through your hair
Pull it just a little bit
I can do that for you 
Just wait
Patience
Take a breath 
Breathe
Not so fast
Do as you’re told
I like when you bite your bottom lip
Like that
Yes
Just like that
Oh it’s killing you isn’t it
I wore your favorite lace
Just for you
But no touching
You’re just visiting
The gallery
No hands on the work
Love
I know you are begging
To grab my hips
Move around back
And squeeze
But no such luck
Not this time
No hands up top either
Sorry dear
You’ll just have to wait
As I remove your shirt
And trace my fingers down your stomach
You like how delicate I am
Don’t you?
Don’t worry
I’ll free you soon
Keep those hands away
While I loosen your belt
And move to the buttons
And zipper
Love that sound
Oh
Is that a whimper I hear?
Good
I knew you would
I’m proud of you
You’re better than I thought you’d be
Bless darling
I’ll give your hair a tug
Amongst other things
But keep your hands
Where they belong
As your eyes roll
Back
Into your head
You wait 
You need to be led
If you listen
And do as you’re told
Maybe I’ll let you
Switch roles
Carry me to the bed
Tie my hands above my head
Be good
Be good
Oh yes
I knew you could…

hope...

“1. I’m in love with him and I hope you choke over the guilt that gives you, I hope our happiness is like a punch to the face and God I hope you fucking bleed like I did. 
2. Hey guess what he actually remembers my fucking name and birthday and the color of my eyes. He looks at me like I used to look at you and I hold him in a way I could’ve never held you because his arms are a safe place and our souls are as intertwined as our legs or our fingers and I’m never going to let go. 
3. I’m so over you and I know you still love me and that makes me so happy because now you know how it feels to be in love with someone who never has empty hands, I hope you stay up at night and wonder if he’s here because he probably is and we’re probably making love and I’m probably tracing his spine and I’m probably screaming his name louder than I ever screamed yours, you used to think if you fucked me you could make some sort of love but bodily fluids aren’t potions and lips don’t always heal, I hope you bite your nails to the quick when you think of how I look at him. 
4. Sometimes all I can say to him is ‘I love you’ over and over and I’ll cry and cry because his eyes are so blue and I’m lost at sea, I always forget about you until you start talking shit again. I guess I stopped thinking about you when he walked into my life, now all I think about is how happy I am, now tell me, if I don’t love him, then why doesn’t he make me want to die like you did?”

belong...

“I’ve never wanted to belong to anyone, until that night you kissed me in the parking lot. Your hands searching for skin underneath my jacket, your tongue leaving it’s taste in my mouth. I wanted to give you every bit of me in exchange for all of you.
I’m constantly begging your hands to stain my skin. I want to look at myself and see the shape of your lips and your fingerprints. I want every inch of my body to show that you’ve learned where my hips curve and my muscles tense. You’ve learned where the skin is the smoothest. I want every inch of my body to show that I am yours.”

i want you...

Is it weird that I want you to appalued for me.

I want to be your star.

I want be the one you seek attention from.

I want to be the light in your day.

I want to be your obsession.

I want to feel your body rub against mine, hear your dirty thoughts in my left ear.

I want to be wrapped up with your arms.

I want to taste you every morning and every night.

I WANT YOU.

letter...

“Make marks on my body. 
Trace patterns on my skin like you would a piece of blue lined paper. 
Write on me the words of a love letter.
Once your ink has seeped into and all the way through my being, fold me up. 
Shove me in an envelope and address it to yourself. 
Stamp it with your lips.
Seal it with your tongue.

I’m yours.”

untitled...

If a man is only as good as his word, then I want to marry a man with a vocabulary like yours. The way you say dicey and delectable and octogenarian  in the same sentence— that really turns me on. The way you describe the oranges in your backyard using anarchistic and intimate in the same breath.

I would follow the legato and staccato of your tongue wrapping around your diction until listening become more like dreaming and dreaming became more like kissing you. I want to jump off the cliff of your voice into the suicide of your stream of consciousness. I want to visit the place in your heart where the wrong words die. I want to visit the place in your heart where the wrong words die.

I want to map it out with a dictionary and points
of brilliant light until it looks more like a star chart than a strategy for communication. I want to see where your words are born. I want to find a pattern in the astrology.

I want to memorize the scripts of your seductions.
I want to live in the long-winded epics of your disappointments,
in the haiku of your epiphanies.
I want to know all the names you’ve given your desires.
I want to find my name among them,

‘cause there is nothing more wrecking sexy than the right word.
I want to thank whoever told you
there was no such thing as a synonym.
I want to throw a party for the heartbreak
that turned you into a poet.

And if it is true that a man is only as good as his word
then, sweet jesus, let me be there
the first time you are speechless,
and all your explosive wisdom becomes
a burning ball of sun in your throat,
and all you can bring yourself to utter is, oh god, oh god.

By Mindy Nettifee

waste paper basket...

I’m trying to write you
love notes, sexy notes,
but I’m so used to tragedy.

I want to say: I want you,
but it comes out — Don’t come any closer.

I want to say: I love you,
but it comes out — I want you to ruin me, break me, chew me up then spit me out, render me meaningless, I only want to get out of this half dead.

I want to say: I miss you,
but I spin in circles instead,
write this tragedy down,
dizzy and incoherent,
tragic and unsexy.

glory...

I burn, I desire, I lust.

Treat me NOT as thy equal but as the handmaiden of thy desire.

Touch me, kiss me, FEEL me, till my loins become a furnace of thy lust.

Hear me oh god from Lust’s table, ignite my flame, and make me BURN from thy wanton sex.

Bring me to thy Glory, and lead me to everlasting satisfaction.

worse, not better...

i am good for a while
i'll talk more
laugh more
sleep and eat normally
but then something happens
like a switch turns off somewhere
and all i am left with is the darkness of my mind
but each time it seems like i sink
deeper and deeper
and i am scared...
terrified that one day i won't make it back up
i feel like i am grasping for air
screaming for help
but everyone just looks at me
with confused faces
wondering what i am struggling over
when they're all doing just fine
and it makes me feel crazy

what the hell is wrong with me?

sensitive souls...

like most sensitive souls,
you already know you're sensitive.
you soak up others moods
and desires like a sponge.
you absorb sensation the way a
paintbrush grasps each color
it touches on a palette.
the ethereal beauty of a dandelion, 
the shift of a season,
the climax of a song,
or a certain stirring scent
can awaken such wonder
they'll become your very breath itself

moving through you,
as fuel does to fire
and wind does to waves.

strawberry angel...

He is my fall, winter and springtime too,
He is a summer rainbow and all it’s hues,
He is the melody that sings deep within my heart,
He is my days most treasured and favorite part.

He is the chuckle to my giggle when we laugh and play,
He is the voice of reason who gets me to stay,
He is the soulful eyes that mirror the deep blue sea,
He is the one who breaks through and always sees me.

He is the hand that holds mine every step of the way,
He is the shoulder I lean on at the end of the day,
He is the smile that baths me in never-ending light,
He is the arms that wrap me up and hold my so tight.

He is the whisper in the dark who helps me find my way,
He is the one with sweet words that take my breath away,
He is my sun, moon and stars x infinity all rolled up into one,
He is my beginning and never my end because we’ve only just begun.

He is my sweetest and most cherished I love yous,
Which is why he will always be my favorite dream come true

better...

“1. I’m in love with him and I hope you choke over the guilt that gives you, I hope our happiness is like a punch to the face and God I hope you fucking bleed like I did. 
2. Hey guess what he actually remembers my fucking name and birthday and the color of my eyes. He looks at me like I used to look at you and I hold him in a way I could’ve never held you because his arms are a safe place and our souls are as intertwined as our legs or our fingers and I’m never going to let go. 
3. I’m so over you and I know you still love me and that makes me so happy because now you know how it feels to be in love with someone who never has empty hands, I hope you stay up at night and wonder if he’s here because he probably is and we’re probably making love and I’m probably tracing his spine and I’m probably screaming his name louder than I ever screamed yours, you used to think if you fucked me you could make some sort of love but bodily fluids aren’t potions and lips don’t always heal, I hope you bite your nails to the quick when you think of how I look at him. 
4. Sometimes all I can say to him is ‘I love you’ over and over and I’ll cry and cry because his eyes are so blue and I’m lost at sea, I always forget about you until you start talking shit again. I guess I stopped thinking about you when he walked into my life, now all I think about is how happy I am, now tell me, if I don’t love him, then why doesn’t he make me want to die like you did?”

—	s.o.l. (via ifellforfate)

monster...

“

The phrase “I love you” tastes like poison in my mouth.
It’s okay, because I’ll never have to say it to you.
You’ll never say it to me.
I’d rather leave scratch marks on your back than an imprint on your heart.
My taste in your beard versus my sentiments in your stomach.

Is that so wrong? Am I such a monster?
When you told me I was intimidating, I threw my head back in laughter.
I’m not making a home in you, just staying for a little while.
The rent is pretty cheap, if I’m being honest. And I’m always being honest.

I want you to break me into a million pieces, but you refuse.
Why won’t you fuck me and forget me?
Why do you have to cradle me like a lost puppy?
I’m a goddamn fire blazing through your life and you’re neither feeding the flames
Nor putting me out. This won’t end well.

”

—	feed the flame by k.n.a. (via crookedlove)

addiction...

I crave you like I
Crave an afternoon cigarette,
Burning my throat and
Trapping yourself in
My lungs.
I want you to cover my 
Skin like the scars that
Litter my arms and legs do. 
I crave you like an
Addict craves his drug,
I need to feel you coursing
Through my veins. 
I want your lips to leave
Marks all over my body,
In such a way that I’ll never
Forget what it felt like to
Lie next to you and
Hear the steady beat of your
Heart. 
I want to love all of you
So strongly, that even if, or
When you love another,
You’ll never forget the way I
Kissed your lips and 
Sighed your name.

words of glow...

People wear me out
suck out my breath
drain my thoughts
take up my space to grow
erase the reason to be alive
and then, when I find myself in an empty room
I break down crying
I always do
because being exhausted is being rude
being silent is being weird
being alone is being wrong
and I break even more
I just need solitude to grow
I just need different things than you do
I need five hour conversations with people I adore
I need someone who is interested in my thoughts
I need free skies to breathe
I need a few numbers to call and a few to answer
I need crazy, clever and furious speculations of the world
I need to keep things private
I need space to think
I need to be allowed to live my life
and I put myself together
and I try my best to keep going
because the only way to get through
is to keep going