Drowning in fires, 

swimming your storms 

the kneel-to 

bruising my bones.

Longing, wanton, needy 

for hopeless devotion 

that pierces my soul 

with tangled kisses 

on sweet lips 

that bloom nectar 

and honey.

Kiss me there.

                   -glassy-eyedgirl 

Asking for too much

Intimacy transcends the physical. Anyone can love your body, that’s easy.   I’m waiting for the man that will love my quiet, and my loud. That will kiss my forehead when I cry and hold me when I tremble in fear. Someone that understands I am not weak, but knows my soul gets weary. He will call me on my bullshit and laugh at my ridiculous. And sit with me on my darkest nights, holding my hands, not fearing the depths of my emotions. I need him to crave my mind, my psycho and my childish ways like it’s the air he breathes. 

I don’t ask for much, and still sometimes I ask for too much. But I will always give all of me without him ever having to ask for more.

And when his touch sparks flames across my body, he will drown in the fire of my lust. It will be gentle and violent and he will never crave another love.

Ink

I miss the way the ink never dried 
and how the words never fell short 

Words fail me now

the pages are brittle 

from tear blotted ink 

My voice cracks

when I speak your name 

And how I wish my tears 

were hidden by rain

Clouds fill my sky 

And grey banishes 

my moon

My heart is cold

my blood is ruined

You were a poison 

and still 

I kept drinking 

How long

How long must I
          be left to feel
           this horrible ache
                       you’ve left behind

                        -glassy-eyedgirl

She was the sea and the moon
And she wanted someone 
that craved to kiss her fire
And knew how to swim in 
the stormy skies of her eyes

Dark nights

Yet another glorious sunrise
steals my dark nights from me
And who will the moon talk to 
If these clouds beckon for my days
Always almost touching bliss
as the sun carries you away
You are every shade of night
and I want to swim in your darkness 

Snakes

It really does just come down to how a woman looks. You think it’s about attraction, they’ll say it’s connection, but it’s not, it’s about how a woman looks.

You think they’re attracted to you because of your vibrant soul or your laugh or the way the sun catches the green in your eyes just right. 

It’s not. It’s about tits and ass and how you look in a bikini. But it doesn’t stop there. You can be gorgeous and perfect and they’re still going to look at another girls tits and ass. 

It just doesn’t fucking matter. Most men are so shallow. 

I’m never going to be loved for me. And I am never going to be desired the way I want. I want someone that only sees me. Why is that so much to ask?

The rain

I wanted to shut myself off from the world, and deny anyone anymore access.

My heart is flooded with pain, you see.

And I break down in tears during the smallest conversations. 

Small talk hurts and is disingenuous.

I can’t express how I feel, if using words cracks open my chest and my voice trembles. 

You see, I have to smile at people all day long, and I have been meticulous with my makeup and hair.

But really I just break down and cry. And it’s not a pretty cry, this is torrential like the storms I want to drown in.

Today it will rain again and I will let my weeping and blubbering be deadened by the crack of thunderstorms. 

I will lose myself in the bursts of lightning to stifle my wailing. I need the rain to cleanse me of you. I need it to let go. I cannot go on not breathing. 

Acceptance

I stopped being angry. Somehow I just stopped. I don’t know when it happened or how. But for however long this lasts, I will remember this is when I realized it. 

Maybe it’s the cool damp night. Or the cover of grey clouds. It could be the wind tickling the trees or the fact that it’s 4am and everything is quiet.

The rage is gone. Bitter never looked good on me anyway. The war in my mind over the things I was angry about was deafening. 

Maybe it’s acceptance. Maybe it was the walk on the beach with my son. Maybe because someone is actively making me feel special. Could be my friend that unexpectedly reached out to check on me, like I check on her. 

I have been angry about failed jobs. Lost love. No sex. Bills I couldn’t afford. Getting older and my body betraying me. Pissed off at myself because I didn’t make time for myself. I have been angry about feeling used and slighted, people not caring for me the way I care for them. Hating my pity parties and taking uturns down memory lane when the roads have been long closed. I have been grieving a life and forgetting to live. I have been beating myself up.

I’m not angry today. I don’t think I was yesterday or the day before that. I’ll still rage about the way people drive, but I accept that. I feel good about the promise of tomorrow. Whomever, however or whatever it was/is, please know that from the depths of my hopeful heart, I am grateful. I just want to put all that good energy back out into the universe. 

Orchid veins

If healing yourself from situations and circumstances that should have killed you makes you a witch, then black magic and moonlight flow deep in these orchid veins

No going easy

I’ve been patiently waiting to hear the wood headboard clack fiercely up against the wall. The kind that lets the neighbors know there’s no going easy.

How I wish it was someone special that could produce the rhythmic thrumming against that wall, the kind that created sexual tension that tests my flexibility and ruins the mattress and frame of my bed.

I cannot remember the last time it was rocked by someone worthy other than me for myself.

Almost sad I don’t live in fear of the large framed Van Gogh print falling off the fortification that divides me from my neighbors. 

Kinda need a reason to hold onto it as my back is broken and I melt with passion. 

I need to whimper and gasp for air, I need to feel the dam break me.

This means war

Constant deconstructing of all the words that broke her bones and all the actions that contradicted and debunked the notion of love and romance. Followed by tsunami size bouts of depression pooling in depths of nearly destroying her life, time and time again. And all the ridiculous chatter of overthinking that scared her into believing she could never trust that she wouldn’t always be preparing for battle. Nevermind the rage and carnage of a mind fraught with open graves and the dead that never slept; her head demanding a hard no - expressing outrage for the gravity of devastation in allowing the weakness of her heart to reign supreme with it’s stubborn optimism. For even in the face of broken promises and lean-to lies, her heart will just keep forgiving and making excuses for disrespecting behavior, and the manipulation of words shredding what semblance of her ego was left. Her blood soaked heart would sell her soul and she would numb her mind just so it could cling to the idea of a devotional safe desirous love. And she never abandoned a silly schoolgirl’s dream of true love. Her brain always screaming about the bleed and all the anguish and suffering of a million tiny deaths because the selfishness of her heart that just wanted to love, baring no weight of the destruction it caused. Still her heart pleaded and begged yes - in the knowing that love is love, and even if she would never get to feel the magnitude of the warmth she hastily gave away, she could lose herself in the frivolity of giving love enough so maybe she could be loved  in return. You wonder how her heart could see at all, what with all the galaxies spinning behind her eyes. Pitious and pathetic, full of emotion and magic and an extreme sensitivity to other’s needs yet none willing to offer her the same shelter. So her heart would stand out in the rain waiting until a boy grabbed her slowly fiercely kissing the storms that raged within, bringing her essence back to life. Her affection for a story she could tell and be proud of instead of the stories she sang as she cried herself to sleep. 

Then her soul wept - being torn apart by absolute truths and questions that circled like vultures preying upon a fresh carcass. The soul knew all the truths, even the ones her heart and mind couldn’t dare whisper. The soul crushed the narrative - not with ‘what if’s’ and ‘why not’s’, but ancient truths dripping from the blades of realism. The mind not wanting to contend with the now, the heart with a foot in the past and a soul that sought to shape all of their futures.

There was no arguing, all three were right. 

You cannot make people love you. Words are simply not enough. And the mind, heart and soul let go of the feud and called a momentary truce. Maybe they all held on too tightly and she just needed to breathe. So instead she let go, listened to some music and let the universe work it’s magic. 

Just once

I’ve never met one man that was any different than the next.

I would love to be proven wrong.

Just once. 

I would rejoice in that moment of just one man that could show me how wrong I was, I would fall at his feet and worship the ground he walked on for as long as I drew breath.

But I’ll die first before I ever meet a man that only sees me, that never stops to gaze too long and lust fully at another female. 

I don’t believe in that “it’s biological” bullshit.

I don’t follow that “I’m a man, I’m hardwired to be this way” bullshit.

I don’t buy into the “alpha male” bullshit.

You are not cavemen. 

Romance and love are dead. 

I no longer believe in love. I no longer will allow myself to get swept up in romanticizing love or romance. I’m done. My heart cannot take another rip at the seams. 

And I am devastated hearing my voice tremble through salty waves of tears as. I pray for rain, I pray I drown in the ocean of these tears for I cannot breathe through this anymore. 

Taste for blood

I’m not a badass bitch.
I’m a warrior and a survivor, 

I’m a goddess and a caregiver.

I turn my pain into 

whatever I have to turn it into, 

to push through.

I am there for the people I love

and I rise again and again 

to help those, 

that just need a little kindness.

I am tired, I am bleeding out,

I’m irrevocably scarred.

I don’t want to just survive, 

I don’t want to have to keep

picking up my sword.

I keep taking hit after hit,

I’m getting a taste for my own blood.

I feel my bones breaking,

and my psyche and soul shattering.

This isn’t rock bottom,

this is six feet under.

I’m not living, I’m coping. 

and I don’t know 

how much longer

the taste of my own blood 

will save me.

I am becoming a monster.

I am becoming dangerous.

I am breathing fire.

If I don’t fall apart and die,

I may develop a taste

for someone else’s blood.

I need to live,

and I don’t remember how.

I’ll tenderly kiss every one of your scars

And consume your soul while sucking your dick

Do not underestimate me

The eyes see

You absolutely do not have to be the man that loves me. But do not ever be so bold to expect that I will share little pieces of myself with you, I don’t shatter anymore for those who don’t mean to actively and intentionally love me. I don’t give away what I know can be treasured by someone. I don’t expect just any man to be able to fulfill that kind of need versus want. To me, he is already extraordinary, and I mean to help him be the King he is. And. Only one man will do. Him. And I will know the moment He smiles, when he sees me. 

Dystopian dreams

I used to think I wanted a crazy love, that I wanted a love that will defy all sanity. But as I have gotten older, I’ve gotten wiser. 

I want peace, I want to feel safe, I want someone genuinely interested in me. I don’t want to be looking over my shoulder or wondering who the man I am in love with is talking to behind my back or when I’m not around. 

I don’t want want crazy anymore. Yes I would love to be THE object of all his desires, yes I want him to be crazy about me and me crazy about him, but in a healthy way. I don’t want my mind to be given the chance to run amuck with anxious thoughts and always worrying if I am all he wants. 

I want someone that KNOWS what the fuck they want. I don’t want to be the girl they go to when they’re caught in the middle of an existential crisis or mid-life crisis. I don’t want the man to come to me broken, to nurse his ego and confidence back so he can leave me and go find his true love or find the confidence to fuck everything pretty in heels. 

I want someone that sees me and wants to stay. I don’t mind broken, I am broken. We all are broken a little. Why is it so fucking hard to find a man that will bring me peace and make me feel safe? I know this can’t be a dystopian dream! 

A man that loves me will find a way to talk to me or see me every day. I wont be too much or too little for him. He won’t be able to sleep knowing I am upset or hurt. He will move mountains to make sure my heart feels his love. 

Maybe I am silly for wanting this or believing it is even possible, but I feel it in my bones. I know I am worth the kind of love I can give. I just need one man to realize it. He’s out there somewhere, waiting for my love. I feel him thinking of me too, wondering where I am. 

Stop telling me I deserve better

Do better 

Rambling on

 Speak softly and carry a big gun

You can’t be my devil anymore 

I can’t be your good deed

Awakened by the silence

Rebirth found in the ruins

When you say you want to feel something, be specific, because pain is something altogether different

I am busy being insane

And unreasonably paranoid

She loved like she lived, dangerously, with a bit of fear and a bit of hope.

Trouble, he was, and she was reckless with want.

Always giving chase 

For moments that stand still

Is it too much to ask to be your poetry

And 

The lust you crave when you wake

A trunk full of bodies and the ghosts that would haunt me

Last night I dreamt you kissed me, softly, passionately, in quiet places that now roar to feel your shameless lust

The narrative in my head and trying to write what I am feeling is too discombobulated

Intoxicated by the kisses from stars that shimmer like beating hearts.

We should stand here and bleed

Into the sky

And forests

Like the ripples in the ocean

Like ancient stories

Yet to be told

It is my river of thought that holds the most dangers for me to drown.

Give me fire and passion, urgency and the rawness of letting go so my soul is suspended in midair.

My demons surrender to my apathy too easily

Bisect into limbs, not parts

In the gardens by light of the moon

The air screamed or maybe it was me

Muscles aching I crawl to him from the tent into the chill evening air, starving like my ribs are breaking

Returning to a sleep of centuries, once my appetite is satiated

Silent revelations by the embers of a flickering campfire

Bedfellows of privilege 

Taste sweeter when earned

There are those, we don’t care what they do or say

We love them anyway

I wish I could bleed the words I feel, words never feel enough

I’ve cut myself a thousand times trying to collect the shattered pieces of my heart.

And still I cannot hate you

She is flesh and blood 

And a fool

He deprives me a sane existence 

His whispers of eating me alive with sinful kisses

I am left to confess my madness

Tracing the lines 

Carving pieces of me away

Like bone, ivory and jade 

Sinuous and undulating

A raw love

Unfettered of societal impositions and intrusion 

Honest, pure, deep

And illuminated by only the stars

To love

Is to lose yourself every day

And find your soul 

Without exception in every moment

Like any starving beast

You must feed your love

For yourself, to yourself 

then

For others

Sometimes I remember everything about you 

And I feel particularly stabby with a lil bit cleaver and hell of a lot of flamethrower

Maybe you were never you

And I was never me

If we can’t visit graveyards together, it’s never going to work

I don’t want to be calm anymore 

I am here to raise hell 

And be swept up furiously by the currents in the Rivers of Hades

Paper hearts stay suspended in the broken in-betweenness

Mutual fascination, mischief and sensuality

Over and over

I delicately wrap the ravaged bleeding beast 

In ribbons and bows

And place the exquisite toy in your hands

That moment just before the first wave of desire consumes you, where you stop breathing and everything else ceases to exist

Take me there

Which one of us wasn’t broken somewhere in between

On feathered wing I soar

From the shadows I reach

Like silence falling I sink

Whispers the wind

I’ll give you the knife to carve away the pain in my heart, and write your name with the love that drips from the blade

Tears of penance tumbling into the wishing well of hope

I wonder if I gave in to this constant need to crack open this cage and tear through the skin and be free to come and go as I please, would I?

And what of hope

I’m still crying over the death of my heart

Shattered illusions

I don’t give in to you, I surrender to you

Windmills and ghosts in my mind

Promises and other hollow creatures

I can cut you into pieces when my heart is, broken

A master of my feelings, words and poetry 

In an alternate universe

My fingers drag slowly 

The way your lips used to

And I sigh your name

Staying too long

Lingering in all the everything 

The mornings after you

Release me again

All these moments 

All these words

Standing on the edge

of my lips

Forgetting to fall

The distraction you want

Is blooming and becoming 

The distraction you need

Exquisite little deaths

Give them all to me

Maybe if I fall in love with my own soul, no one can hurt me anymore.

Darling

And if I find myself thinking of you, I shall be reminded of the gifts you bestowed upon me; the quiet tears that followed the cold silent treatments. No take backs, darling.

Fools

A dime a dozen, those silly men vying for every female’s attention. You’re the same as those thirsty fools, thinking a lady would sit idly by and watch such a vulgar display.

Quickly now, be gone I have no interest in shallow men with premature hearts. Go now, fill your cup with cheap wine and glamour shots. 

I crave a man of substance with tremendous depths, a man that knows one woman is enough. The man that knows his lady will bloom in his hands and she will be a thousand women, just for him. 

Soulless

I could go on being angry, it wasn’t like you didn’t keep giving me enough reasons. 

You think you can unravel me, that I will come undone and you will have bested me. And you think I will fall at your feet and beg to be seen.

But I choose me. And I choose to let you go. Keep your harlots and restless empty nights. Stay there with them to give you the soulless company you crave.

I will sleep knowing I gave all. And now I will give all that love to me. I will give me everything. Everything and Love.

Boo

Pain changes you. You are already being changed by it. And that’s okay. It’s okay to grieve for the girl you remember yesterday or the girl you are today or become tomorrow. No matter who you become, just know I know who you are and how big your heart is, no matter how tough the exterior you have to make it to protect yourself. I am always going to love you. I wish the world could see you through my eyes. I wish they could understand the beauty of your depths. I love you

I fought too hard to just find myself right back where it all began

I  don’t want to fight anymore 

I don’t think there’s anything left in me to keep fighting 

I don’t know what I am fighting for anymore 

I read recently that men don’t process a breakup immediately like women do.

This makes so much sense to me. It explains why some of y’all will pop in months later.

What you don’t realize is that once there is a breakup, months later, women have managed to process living without you. 

We will no longer hold you in the same regard or see you the same way. 

Quit popping in. Make a decision and stand by it. Not all women want to remain friends. 

I keep falling back together 

But

Each time there’s another little piece of my heart missing. Each time.

My depression lingers for too long now.

And

I worry too much about each of them and not anywhere near enough. 

The truest love for someone really is just genuinely being thrilled for all the wonderful things transforming their life. 

The corners of their mouth curling as they try to mute their joy, but obviously incapable of not smiling. Hearing pure joy and excitement in their voice. 

This world has broken us so much we have ingraciated our thinking that we don’t deserve emotional ecstasy. 

How fucking absolutely beautiful it is to be able to see and share in the energy behind the purity of a heart that can’t stop smiling. 

Shards

I gave you my heart, 

you didn’t cherish it. 

You returned it, 

broken and in shards. 

I still cut myself 

trying to comfort myself. 

And still 

I cannot hate you.

In the gardens by light of the moon
He tore at my body with a savage fragility 
Shackling me to him
Beyond the equinoxes of time
And I, pleading for god and death
Awakened over and over again 

Winged beasts

Mercurial from within
A thousand winged beasts 
Piercing beneath my flesh
Transforming the pain
Splitting open the cage
Sipping from freedom
And bathing in blood

Divinity

The nights you read from Keats

Undressed and on my knees

Calling upon divinity 

Swallowing your words rhythmically

I tremble beneath your unrepentant words

Your hand wrapped neatly in my hair

War zone

There’s a constant need baring it’s teeth inside me to rebel against myself 

The mind can be a war zone 

Sometimes my heart feels like it’s a huge rock weighted and anchored in my chest

And I begin to drown 

Read at my funeral

Dont read my eulogy

Without fact checking me first

Without truly loving me

Without making everyone laugh at me

Without knowing I love love

Don’t read my eulogy

Without knowing my many smiles

Without knowing I loved passionately 

Without knowing I practiced kindness 

Without knowing I always had your six

Don’t read my eulogy 

Without knowing my truth

Without knowing I wanted the truth

Without knowing I regret telling lies

Without knowing I was true to myself

Without knowing I put you first

Don’t read my eulogy 

Without telling a good joke

Without bringing out little nicky 

Without bringing out a snort laugh

Without pouring a shot for your homie

Don’t read my eulogy 

If you plan to stay sober at my wake

If I helped you bury a body

If you can’t remember correct details about me and you’ll just embarrass us both 

Don’t read my eulogy 

If you ever tried to hurt anyone I love

If you had a chance to love me and instead crushed my heart

If you had a chance to be a loyal friend but chose betrayal

If you had an agenda and used me

My circle is small for a reason, because the only people allowed to speak about me are the people I know truly love me, that love all the versions of me

PS, I intend to haunt the fuck out of ALL of you scheming, lying-ass, shitty-ass, fake, fucking asshole fuckers. 

You may wanna go ahead and call a good priest, ghostbusters or the joy luck club idgaf, I am tired of waiting on karma 

Peace, love and rock n roll bitchachos 

You can’t say goodbye,

If you never understood hello

I will see you all in the next life

Let’s all pinky promise to do better 

Pockets

Dont let the challenges steal away the magic of such blissful moments in life. Treasure all the moments you can. You fucking cherish them, you put them in your damn pocket and you bring them out every day to reflect on their wonder. 

Illuminate

I made a strand 
of paper hearts 
And set them 
all ablaze
A new ritual 
of sorts
To cast their light 
on somber days
The fire turned 
my life into art
And Illuminated 
better ways

I say I’m strong woman and I don’t Need saving, but the truth is I am tired, I’m exhausted. I am. I’m tired of saving myself and everyone around me and just for once in my fucking life I would like for someone to give a shit enough to want to save me. I want to feel safe.

Alive

I wait to
come alive
in raging 
storms
when 
lightning 
blisters the dark
velvet nights
and songs
of thunder 
course 
through
my veins

Glass

Don’t place me under glass

My wings are broken, not torn

This heart is fragile, not worn

Sometimes

Sometimes 

I feel everything

And it’s 

all just too much

I feel the world

weighing me down

I feel me

collapse

piece 

by piece 

in exhaustion 

My mind, my heart, my soul

I feel dead

I’m just a corpse

with a pulse 

walking around 

pretending 

like I have any idea

of what the hell

is going on

In a daze

pretending 

like I have the 

slightest clue

as to what 

to fix first

I am slipping away

I feel myself falling 

I am losing ground quickly 

I don’t know how 

to ask for help 

It’s different this time

I don’t know where

to start

I am dizzy

I am screaming inside

My chest is tight 

My eyes are damp

I keep licking my lips

I am thirsty 

I don’t know what the fuck to do

The minutes are

like hours

I just want to fall apart 

And I don’t know 

how to hold myself 

together anymore 

I have to get a fucking grip

I have to get away 

from myself

and pull myself 

together 

Wake up 

but be patient 

with yourself 

Love you

Fill your cup first 

Take a good look 

over because that’s 

one hell of a fall

Step away from the ledge 

And just breathe

drink some water

and grab your chapstick 

I have to talk to myself like 

I am a toddler 

trying to eat peas with a fork 

then picking them 

between my fingers instead 

The chaos is fixed

I can think through this

I just need to 

drown out all

the other noise

I digress and this is why I am here

Too many fucking thoughts all at once

I need my devils to either shush for a minute or shout something good

The way I can

I will

Remember who the fuck you ARE!!