the ones who lost my trust...

she has a bookshelf for a heart,
and ink runs through her veins,
she'll write you into her story,
with the typewriter in her brain,
her bookshelf's getting crowded,
with all the stories that she's penned,
of the people who flicked through her pages,
but closed the book before the end,
and there's one pushed to the very back,
that sits collecting dust,
with its title in her finest writing,
"the one's who lost my trust",
there's books she's scared to open,
and books she doesn't close,
stories of every person she's met,
stretched out in endless rows,
some people have only a sentence,
while others once held a main part,
thousands of inky footprints,
that they've left across her heart,
you might wonder why she does this,
why write of people you once knew?
but she hopes one day she'll mean enough,
for someone to write about her too.

bed...

a bed;
where most teenagers find themselves
for 16 hours of the day,
because they'd rather sleep than
deal with their problems
and if sleep is for the weak,
then teenagers are the weakest group
it's a drug
you close your eyes and just like that,
you're gone and reality can not touch you
and if nothing was ever a priority,
most of us wouldn't bother waking up.

the ocean...

i am the ocean. 
you are fascinated by my depth and my emptiness,
but you are afraid to plunge in the shallows and
say you love my salty tears,
you love my waves,
you love the beautiful shells i churn out.
you are aware there are monsters deep within me,
but you make no attempt to try and find them;
you make no attempt to see them face-to-face.
you are happy in your ignorance,
and i wrap myself around you as you frolic in 
the beauty you see at my surface and ignore
the horrors you know are there.
i kiss you like i kiss the shoreline,
pulling away but always rushing back.
you ignore the fact that i swallow the light every night,
and i am controlled by the ever-changing moon.
you do not know everything about me,
but maybe that's for the best.
knowledge would not be power in this case;
knowledge would suck you into the inky depths
of my madness and cause you to drown.
i am the ocean and you are simply a tourist;
you are not an explorer.
i do not blame you for this one bit.

get lost...

let me trace the lay of your lines
from between your legs
out across 
your freckled limbs

let me trace you in my arms
wearing nothing but the bits of summer
that still cling effortlessly to your skin

i want to memorize every corner
every crease
every name
that has ever known your lips
the shadows of your collarbones
and the scent of your skin

take me in,
pull me close.

i am a solar flare
a dying star 
with my chest pressed into yours

let me feel your heavy sighs
hold me in your soft moans

i want to feel you, little love
so hold me close
tangled in sheets

i want to get lost
in all that you are.

-tyler kent white

im fine...

inside she's a wreck.
when you see her she looks perfectly fine.
deep down her mind is a mess.
when she's with you she looks happy.
when she's alone she's fragile.
this girl is full of dreams,
she wants to escape her town,
meet new people, travel,
explore the world, and 
go on fun road trips
at midnight
and perhaps one day
she'll be truly happy.
and when you ask her "are you ok?"
for once she'll say, "i'm fine."
and it wouldn't 
be a lie.

-ae

cross...

addiction...

i've never had many
addictions
at least not ones
that really mean
something
but i never knew
how addicting 
something could be
until your legs shook
and i learnt what
heaven tasted like.


-cp

burns...

she threw herself at heartbreak,
like a moth drawn to a flame,
patching up her broken wings,
just to try it once again,
and the world thought her foolish,
for she never seemed to learn,
but how do you save somebody,
who's convinced that they should burn?

-eh

show me...

don't you dare...

don't you dare tell me i'm beautiful
until you've seen my scars
that care my body 
and the blood 
that pours out of my soul

don't you dare tell me i'm lovely
until i completely shut you out
because i swore to myself
you're just like the rest
and you'll get sick of me

don't you dare tell me i'm flawless
until you've seen me break down in tears
i'll show you the darkness
that consumes me
and you'll run away

but if you 
have seen my scars
bitterness
and darkness
then perhaps i believe you.

rilke...

perhaps all the dragons in our
lives are princesses who are
only waiting to see us act, just
once, with beauty and courage.

perhaps everything that frightens
us is, in it's deepest essence, 
something helpless that wants our
love.

-rilke

don't ask...

please don't ask
if i'm okay,
i might do something 
stupid like open up
to you
and i'm really tired 
of getting close to 
people and watching
them leave me like
i'm nothing.

breathless...

"come into me. let me remind you

why human contact is an absolute

necessity. let me grab those hips of

yours, and bring you in close enough

to show you that you will never lose

me. i want to bite your lips and fill

your mouth with reason why you'll 

never want to belong to anyone else.

i'll let you trail your fingernails down

my back as a map of the places you've 

taken me. you'll fill my ears with the 

noises you make and remind me that

the only thing i want to get high off of

is your laugh. and when i whisper that 

i love you, it'll never be out of secrecy, 

but rather out of the certainty that you

literally leave me breathless."

a brave man...

maybe, it takes a brave man to be 
with a woman like me. in
relationships, i don't look the other
way, and dim my voice when i have
something to say. i learned that i 
simply don't do well with huge egos,
for i always see myself as his equal.

heartbeats...

i read somewhere
that if you listen to 
the sound of someone's
heartbeat long enough
your own heart starts to beat
in sync with theirs.
i have spent so long
with my head against your chest
listening to the rhythm
beating inside of you
hearing your blood rush
to your veins.
so tell me
how do you expect my heart
to beat on when
yours no longer does?

-ay

seduction of the mind...

the seduction of ones mind can take time,
like an artist with a brush
creating not art but passion filled lust.

seduction of the mind can be a great game
the goal of which to light passions great flame.
to fill the mind with that great desire
to dance within passions great fire.

when seduction of the mind comes first,
it can release passion with a burst.
setting lovers free to explore,
with their minds an open door.

good girl...

like a beast in the night
you stalked your way
inside my mind
with words you collared
my soul,
late night promises to make
me whole.
i tried to resist that southern
drawl but it was the
rope that bound my heart
and left it raw.
you devoured everything in me
and i submitted to the fantasies.
i was a good girl
trapped in your lair,
left broken and 
destroyed with no aftercare.

human beings...

we are human beings made
up of atoms, and molecules, and
star stuff,
and we store memories in the 
forms of scars, bruises, and laugh lines - the ones
on your skin and the ones on your heart.
we live in houses made up of 
four walls that can either
protect you or suffocate you,
inspire you or kill you.
we read books made up of dead trees
with every page telling
a story, 
a moment,
a feeling.
we sleep in beds made up of
sleepless nights and hopeful dreams, and
we fall in love there, or out of love, or we
make love.
we write, we dance, we hope, we inspire.
we are nothing and we are everything.

melancholy...

he admired my
melancholy madness
and said it was
graceful
and beautiful.

but it was neither
of those things.

i was a hurricane
at the centre 
of a 

collapsing,
burning
building;

and i wasn't someone
to be admired at all.

human...

some nights you will feel
like there are a thousand galaxies
exploding in every inch of you
and you are burning too bright
to ever be looked at directly,
and some nights you will feel
impossibly small, like your 
whole body could slip through
the spaces between atoms and 
never reappear in this world again,
and some nights you will feel
like a paper doll, carefully crafted
and easily blown away, fragile,
too delicate to ever be touched,
and some nights you will feel
like each cell in your body is
made of the strength that holds 
this whole planet together,
and that is okay, because you are
made of stardust and minuscule
atoms and breakable bones
and the building blocks of
everything in the universe,
and you are too alive to never
feel anything more than human.

blooming madness...

we know 
so perfectly
how to give birth
to the monsters
inside us,
but for reasons i 
will never figure out,
we have not the slightest 
clue of what to do
with all the 
love.

relationship bucket list...

i came across this on pinterest earlier.
i am in love with this list.

heroin...

your hands
on my skin are
like heroin
to my heart.

i swear i will get
my fill of you.
even if
it kills me
first.

-beau taplin

henry rollins...

you are beautiful like demolition. just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. i don't need a god. i have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. the taste of your saliva. the darkness is ours. the nights belong to us.

everything we do is secret. nothing we do will ever be understood; we will be feared and kept well away from. it will be the stuff of a legend, endless discussion and limitless inspiration for the brave of heart. it's you and me in this room, on this floor. beyond life, beyond mortality. we are gleaming animals painted in moonlit sweat glow. our eyes turn to jewels and everything we do is an example of spontaneous perfection.

i have been waiting all of my life to be with you. my heart slams against my ribs when i think of the slaughtered nights i spent all over the world waiting to feel your touch. the time i annihilated while i waited like a man doing a life sentence. now you're here and everything we touch explodes, bursts into bloom or burns to ash. history atomizes and negates itself with our every shared breath. i need you like life needs life. i want you bad like a natural disaster. you are all i see. you are the only one i want to know.

what i wish i could tell you...

i wish i could tell you
secret things. hidden things
loving you true things
stored away in cluttered
corners of my heart
with whispered hopes
stashed behind papers
of crumpled dreams
slightly yellowed
but no less sweeter
i wish i could tell 
you secret things
and i pretend that you'd 
pull out the papers
smooth the wrinkles
and understand that
they are good and sad
and beautiful, even if
a little frayed, a little torn.

storms...

i will bruise your lips,
and scar your knees
and love you too hard.

i will destroy you
in the most beautiful way possible.

and when i leave,
you will finally understand,
why storms are named after people.

day 100...

i want to carry you to the bed, i want to lift you 
up by your soul and send you into our chambers.
i want to travel with you to the secrets of our
dreams and kiss your body under the covers. 
i want to delve deeply into your hopes and fears,
and somewhere down there conjure up magic,
something you can carry in the blush of your
cheeks.

let you...

i want you...

i want you
inside my mind,
smothering my thoughts,
and indulging in my dreams.

i want you 
inside my heart,
dancing within my ventricles,
and flowing through my affections.

i want you in places
the most gifted surgeons
would never gamble to dissect.

&
i want you,
all over me,
all the time.

-jl

the way he...

it was rather beautiful:
the way he put her 
insecurities to sleep.
the way he dove into
her eyes and starved all 
the fears and tasted 
all the dreams she kept
coiled beneath her bones.

-christopher poindexter

everywhere...

i don't just want your heart.
i want your flesh, 
your skin,
and your blood and bones,
your voice,
your thoughts,
your pulse
and most of all
your fingerprints
everywhere.

written...

write me something beautiful
without a single piece of paper
or the use of a tedious pen.

i want the ink to spill 
from your tongue,
as your lips against mine
become the words,
and the fluidity your hands
creates the punctuation.

our breath will craft the diction,
as our kisses slowly
turn into paragraphs,
allowing the movement 
of our bodies
to create the chapters
of this perfectly written novel.

consequences...

intimacy...

intimacy is not who you let touch you.
intimacy is who you text at 3am 
about your dreams and fears. 
intimacy is giving someone your attention,
when ten other people are asking for it.
intimacy is the person always in the back
of your mind, no matter how distracted
you are.

sour...

he fed you sweet sweet words like honey,
their taste like sugar on his tongue,
no-one had ever been so kind,
so to every word you clung,
he told you you were pretty,
in the dress that he had bought,
that you were smart when you remembered,
all the things that he had taught,
you came to need those words,
just as much as you need air,
the way they showed that you had beauty,
ever since he'd placed it there,
but you didn't see the truth,
the holes the words left in his teeth,
as he used all of the sugar,
to coat the rotted heart beneath,
he revealed to you your beauty,
but made it so you would believe,
that you'd be quick to lose it,
if you ever were to leave,
so you stayed stuck fast beside him,
as you fell deeper for his trick, 
smiling like nothing was wrong,
when the sugar made you sick,
but let me tell you something,
you do not need him there to shine,
a boy should never have a say,
on how your worth's defined,
i know you have the power,
to break out of his sticky grip,
for you were the beautiful before the words,
had touched his sour lips.

worth the pain...

my name...

you could never pronounce my name right,
in your mouth it sounded wrong,
like a piece that tries so hard to fit,
but it doesn't quite belong,
but i learnt to love it that way,
it was the only flaw you had,
like you'd taken who i thought i was,
and changed it just a tad,
you'd whisper it silence,
or shout it through the air,
a reminder that the love i'd found,
was nothing short of rare,
before long you got tired,
of my name's unpolished sound,
and i watched it slip right off your tongue,
and shatter on the ground,
my name once full of loving,
is just a broken syllable,
and now when people say it right,
i don't react at all.

her eyes...

you thought her eyes were a window, 
in the rooms that housed her soul,
and the things you saw behind it,
made you think she'd made you whole,
so you started throwing pebbles,
begging her to let you in,
until the signs of your affection,
appeared as bruises on her skin,
but what you'd failed to notice,
was that her curtains were drawn tight,
and the promises you thought you'd seen,
were just tricks of the light,
of who you wished that she would be,
with a life to make yours better,
and perfect personality,
so when her window shattered,
and you peered into her room,
you found a very different person,
to the one that you'd assumed,
and i hope you begged forgiveness,
for the glass left on her floor,
and for thinking that a person,
owed it to you to be much more.

favorite sweater...

you're like my favorite sweater,

that smells of places it has been,

with my tears caught in its fabric,

and my life sewn in its seams,

it's seen it's share of sunshine,

and it's kept me warm in snow,

its bright colors now a memory,

of a time lost long ago,

but like my favorite sweater,

you've been worn out once too much,

and the stitches that protect you,

start to crumble with my touch,

i'e even tried to fix you,

but i never learnt to sew,

and the only thing that's left to do,

is learn to let you go,

my old and worn out sweater,

it no longer fits me snug,

it's a lose as your two arms were,

the last time we ever hugged,

so promise me just one thing,

as i bid you both farewell,

that you remember me long after,

my favorite sweater's lost my smell.

keys...

but hearts don't have locks, she said.
some do, he replied. there are people who give
away the key to theirs for safekeeping. others are
mistrustful and give out several keys just in case.
then there are those who have misplaced them but
never cared to look.
what about your heart, she asked.
he smiled.
your words are the key to mine, he replied.
never forget your words.

-lang leav

her...

there is so much history in the way he looks at her.
in the way he says her name. when they are
together, there is a current that runs between them;
like an electric charge on the verge of erupting into
a perfect storm.

i don't love her anymore, he says.

and it is in the way he says the word, her- that tells me otherwise.

-lang leav

lullabies...

i barely know you, she says, voice heavy with sleep. i don't know your favorite color or how you like your coffee. what keeps you up at night or the lullabies that sing you to sleep. i don't know a thing about the first girl you loved, why you stopped loving her or why you still do. i don't know how many millions of cells you are made of and if they have any idea they are part of something so beautiful and unimaginably perfect.

i may not have a clue about any of these things but this-
she places her hand on his chest- this, i know.

-lang leav

fading polaroid...

my eyes were the first to forget. the face i once cradled tenderly between my hands, now a blur. and your voice is slowly drifting from my memory like a fading polaroid. but the way i felt is still crystal clear. like it was yesterday.

there are philosophers who remain adamant the past, present and future all exist at the one time. and the way i have felt, the way i feel- that same bittersweet ache between wanting and having- is evidence of their theory. i felt you before i knew you and i still feel you now. and in that brief moment between- wrapped in your arms thinking, how lucky i am, how lucky i am, how lucky i am-

how lucky i was. 

crosswords...

i write to bring you closer. to imagine your fingers trailing the curve of my spine. to recall how the span of your hands were exactly the width of my hips. and how our bodies would fall into each other like words on a crossword puzzle. i write for the raw ache in my bones when the ink seeps into paper- for the bittersweet sorrow that comes from bringing you back.

-lang leav

i want...

i want to hear your breath,
the slow and steady rhythm
and rise and fall
and fall and rise
as it rocks me to sleep
and i want to see your eyes
open one at a time
to the brightness
of new mornings.
i want to know what your skin
feels like after three days
of traveling and no bother
of a shower because what
we see is more and worth
more than how we feel.
i want to hold your hand
and feel the squeeze when you
are absolutely terrified.
i want to see you smile
when you are worn out from 
making love to me and i want
to carry your limp arms
into the shower to let
the warmth soothe us
back to life.

better...

i promise you
i will try harder
to be better.
i
have battled with things
inside me
for longer than you know;
i do not know
what they are
or why they are there,
i only know 
that they feel
manageable,
defeatable,
when i 
am around
you.

i wish...

what if...

what if all we ever wanted
isn't hiding in some
secret and far away dream
but inside of us now
as we breathe one another
and find home in the way
our arms always seem to fit
perfectly around the spaces
between us?
what of we are the answer
and love was the question?
what if all this time 
it was us you were supposed
to find?
i am filled with wonderings
questions and doubt
but of one thing i am certain:
it will always be you
that gives flight to the 
butterflies inside me,
calm to the sea i have become
and hope to the darkness all around us.
it is you and it has always
been you...
you.
you that soothes and excites 
and spreads joy like rainfall
on the already damp earth;
you that pulled me from the longest
sleep and kissed my tired eyelids
awake.
if life is a question mark,
then you my love,
are the proud and bold period
that is typed with certainty.

knees...

everything...

with these hands 
and these
fingers
i will reach 
across, over,
under, or through
anything that separates 
you
from 
me.
i will paint
your face and neck
with tenderness,
i will coat you
in calm.
i will be 
everything 
you need
because you
are everything
to me.

paperback girl...

she smelled of books and stories,
of all the worlds she'd lived within,
as though the ink had left the pages,
to find a new home in her skin,
she didn't quite belong here,
lived a life within her head,
like she'd slipped out from the covers,
of paperback instead,
and you'd see it in her eyes,
that they were deeper than a well,
she was a whole library of stories,
that we'd beg her to tell,
when she spoke the world would listen,
to the adventures of her mind,
for if there's such a thing as magic,
then it was something she could find,
and her heart had looked much further,
than her eyes had ever seen,
she'd walked on words to places.
her two feet had never been,
it's years now since she moved,
and we all failed to keep in touch.
so her memory's all faded,
like a book you've read too much,
but if she hoped to leave us ink-stained,
she should know she did succeed,
for even now we all still look for her,
in every book we read.

-eh

shut down...

when i'm upset

i shut myself down.
i have no motivation for anything.
i tell myself that nobody cares,
even though i know some do.

i think about all of the negative things
i could possibly think of.

i give myself all the pain,
thinking i deserve it.
i'm not sure why i do that,
but that's just how i am.

terrifying...

it's
absolutely
terrifying
to let someone in
let them see
the darkest corners of your
soul
the reasons why you cry
and why they make you
so happy

it's absolutely terrifying
because
they might run away
with your secrets
and never give them 
back.

last wave...

the last wave of sadness comes when
you know there will always be a part of 
you that misses them but when you also
know it will never be the same like it
was.

when you have finally accepted that
you'll never be that person again and
that they'll never be that person
either, the one you used to love.

gaiman...

lunchables...

a problem...

i have a 
problem
where i just...
push
people away,
to the point where
i ignore texts and calls
and i sit alone at 
night,
wondering why 
i'm doing it
and how i can
stop it,
but something inside me
won't let me 
quit it.

blackout poetry...

white balloons...

"White Balloons"

-Sick Puppies

I'm holding onto white balloons

Up against a sky of doom

Tell me you see them

'Cause what's inside of me is invisible to most

Even in clear view

I'm sending out a signal to the possibility of you

'Cause right at this moment

I know you're connected to a part of me that I don't even know myself

The changes in me

Are likely to be like the weather

Stormy and clear strength into fear bound together

But I'll break my silence

If I believed that you and me could ever be

More than just what's been behind us

I tried and left, they came and went

I got rejected out again

But no one believes me

I've worn a hundred faces

Of the character replacements and now

Nobody sees me

The changes in me

Are likely to be like the weather

Cloudy at best...

Angels lift me

Are you with me?

I'm holding onto you like 

I'm holding onto white balloons

Carry me away

I hope that you don't break

Angels lift me

Are you with me?

I'm holding onto you like 

I'm holding onto white balloons

Carry me away

I hope that you don't break

I hope that you don't break

Don't break

'Cause what's inside of me is invisible to most

Even in clear view

myself...

i keep so much pain
inside myself.
i grasp my anger
and loneliness
and hold it
in my chest.
it has changed me
into something
i never meant to be.
it has transformed me
into a person
i do not recognize;
but i don't know how
to let it go.


-my self portrait drawing...
quite proud of that piece 
of art i've done.

think...

i'm too shy 
to tell you
how i feel

so i'll hide behind 
timid smiles and
soft hellos

i'm afraid 
if i ask you
"what do you think
of me?"
your reply will be

"i dont."

closure...

closure is a joke. 
the only apology you need, is the one you owe yourself for staying as long as you did. 
the only conversation you need to have and the only person you need to see again, is the person in the mirror.
look at yourself and say 
"you know what, i fucked up. my worth is more than that."
that's your closure.

don't keep dancing with the devil and wonder why you are still in hell.

c.s. lewis...

being in love is a good thing,
but it is not the best thing.

there are many things below it, but there are also things above it. you cannot make it the basis of a whole life. it is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all. knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go. and in fact, whatever people say, the state called "being in love" usually does not last.

if the old fairy tale ending "they lived happily ever after" is taken to mean "they felt for the next fifty years exactly as they felt the day before they married," then it says what probably never was nor ever could be true, and would be highly undesirable if it were. who could bear to live in that excitement for even five years? what would become of your work, your appetite, your sleep, your friendships?

but, of course, ceasing to be "in love" need not mean ceasing to be "in love" need not mean ceasing to love. love in this second sense - - love as distinct from "being in love" - - is not merely a feeling. it is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from god. 

they can have this love for each other even at the moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. they can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be "in love" with someone else.

"being in love" first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. it is on this love that the engine of marriage is run:

being in love was the explosion that started it.

soul mates...

i don't know how it is you are so
familiar to me- or why it feels less
like i am getting to know you and
more as though i am remembering who
you are. how every smile, every
whisper brings me closer to the
impossible conclusion that i have
know you before- in another time, a different
place- some other existence.

-lang leav

its history...

among other things, you'll find that you're not the first person who was ever confused and frightened and even sickened by human behavior. you're by no means alone on that score, you'll be excited and stimulated to know. many, many men have been just as troubled morally and spiritually as you are right now. happily, some of them kept records of their troubles. you'll learn from them - if you have something to offer, someone will learn something from you. it's a beautiful reciprocal arrangement.
and it isn't education.
it's history.
it's poetry.

answer...

maybe i still see us
through fragments and flashes
in places we were.

but although i don't know why
you changed your mind

i stopped needing an answer.

silly girl...

she's so beautiful
yet so sad

always saying no one
will ever love her,
and yet when somebody tells her
that they love her she runs and hides

silly girl, 
they love you,
you just don't love yourself.


a pic of yours truly. (:

masquerade...

she will hide
all you wish to see
about her sweet soul
like breathing and living
in a masquerade ball
you will fall in love
with who she is
beneath her mask
and somewhere in the night
be her escape
and watch her soul
because even with a mask
her eyes give her away....

loving the wrong person...

loving the wrong person

(let out scares fall in love. -galway kinnell)

we're all seeking that special person who is right for us. but if you've been through enough relationships, you begin to suspect there's no right person, just different flavors of wrong. why is this? because you yourself are wrong in some way, and you seek out partners who are wrong in some complementary way. but it takes a lot of living to grow fully into your own wrongness. it isn't until you finally run up against your deepest demons, your unsolvable problems- the ones that make you truly who you are- that you're ready to find a life long mate. only then do you finally know what you're looking for. you're looking for the wrong person -someone you lovingly gaze upon and think, "this is the problem i want to have."

i will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.

happiness...

i think i should nail these
moments of happiness to the
table, or maybe just stitch is
them to my skin. i can't seem
to remember happiness in
the same way that i remember 
sadness. madness burns and
aches and forces me to notice
it, contentment evaporated and 
leaves me wondering if i
felt it at all.
sadness is deep in me, in my 
heart and the curls of my hair
and it begs to be remembered.

twisted...

it's so fucking twisted, you know.
this whole "love" thing. like really?
you fall in love and you literally fall.
you crash to the ground and i swear to
god all your bones break. you're
fucking shattered but you don't notice
because you've got this beautiful boy
whispering in your ear and kissing
your neck and nothing else matters.
but then he leaves and suddenly you
feel it. you feel everything. and you're
hysterically crying in your car at 4 in
the morning in some empty parking
lot because it's the only place that
doesn't taste like him and you're
trying to hold your bones together but
his old t-shirts don't work as a cast,
wrapping them around your chest
won't fix the craters in your ribs.
nothing stops the aching.