Food For Thought

to undress your body of
what fabricates
your modesty I crave
you
to feel your bareness on my
fingertips taste you
right between my lips to feel
you rub my tongue clean
with your remedial juice
so bad I crave
to get you inside me hard
to think because I crave you
your texture against mine
the melody once
we collide intensely I crave
a bite however messy
I crave you hungry
my pink lady
apple

The Fall

He looks like Autumn
Not like Spring with her
Blooming gardens no
Not like Spring at all
But Autumn with his wilt
Autumn with his hues
A vibrancy unlike his sister
With her enticing allure no
He a candidly vivid presence
Beguiles the race with his misery
Effortlessly

His scent is that of Autumn too
Like wind and rain
The Earth must breathe through his skin
And cry from his eyes
Because he smells like his Mother
Natural
Sweet and pure
Yet promising of thunder

He feels like Autumn as well
Like the departure of Summer
And the proximity of Winter
Radiating with the warmth that remains
Of sun that once kissed his flesh
Seducing the cold
A yearner for his Autumn
Not Summer nor Winter
But Autumn with his enigma
Textured with tales of fortitude
And hope

Everything is Autumn about him
And maybe that is why I keep falling
Like a leaf constantly caught
In his season

Lost Dreams

I apologize for being a dreamer. For spending too much of my time in my mind, designing a world too big for me. I’m sorry for spending too much of my time with my eyes closed, scared of what exists beyond my eyelids, I’m sorry. I don’t think I belong here, because I’ve seen belonging in my dreams, and it does not look like this. So I apologize for being a dreamer. For giving birth to flora across the fields of my skull, while here being infertile. I’m sorry I can’t love here. I’m sorry I can’t live here. I’m sorry I can’t be here. It’s just that sometimes I feel so lost in this simplicity, this sanity, this cell of souls, it’s sickening. And maybe they’re right, maybe the world I’ve created in my head is much too large for me, but I’d rather get lost someplace I love, than here.

Undressed

Clothed,
Strip me down
Touch me bare
Your warmth on my chest
Let me sense you on my left
Caress the heart distressed
Make me yearn
For a romance,
Dressed.

Empty Words

And she is eating their words on an empty stomach, glorifying the taste out of desperation, but she knows, oh she knows. That an empty stomach accepts anything edible, and that the satisfaction she feels is nothing special. Just a space filler. A mind fucker. She knows, oh she knows there is better. But she has never known patience when it came to hunger.

Unhandy Love

But you, you fell in love with my hands first. Said a punch from me would be incredible, because you would get to feel my fingers on your face, my rings in your flesh. You paid close attention to my nails too, and made sure to tell me what colours you liked painted on them. You always said that bright colours suited me most, because the dull did not belong to a girl like me. You fell in love with my hands and maybe they loved you back. Maybe that is why I break everything that I touch, because my hands cannot make sense of anything without you. Maybe they never will.

Finite

Let us not love
But be

Let us not be infinite
But feel infinity
Feel flames feel flowers
Burn these hours
Like time is a lie

Feel flowers feel flames
Bring light to these days
Like the sun is powerless

Let us not love
Let us be
The flame and its fierceness
The flower and its fluidity

Let us blaze and bloom

And crumble when we must

Dear 2017

I loved you the first day you came into my life. I thought you would be good to me. So I loved you. But as always, I expected a little too much and you only ended up disappointing me. Now you want to leave. I begged you to leave so many times, but now that you’re leaving, I feel uneasy. I don’t know why it’s bothering me, for you’re one of the worst things that have ever happened to me. I guess maybe I’m scared. I’m scared you’re not being truthful. I’m afraid you’ll cling onto my hair, climb up to my head and dig your fangs into my scalp so that I’ll never be able to shake you off. I’m afraid that although I’ll no longer be writing your name, I’ll still be screaming it in the middle of the night. I’m scared you won’t truly leave. I need you to leave me so that I can find sanity. I want to feel sane again. I need to. I need to feel again. 

Linger Longer

There are things you need to know about me. Like how I linger on things. Not the regular type of lingering, but the absurd type. They make me do it. They tell me it’s unfair to let things pass my eyes without entering my mind, cruel to let sound beat unheard, smell unnoticed. They tell me to feed my mind with my senses so that I can feel my surroundings inside me. They tell me the exterior deserves a spot in my interior, and now I’m an architect drawing everything I witness on the walls of my brain, so that I can linger just a little longer. They say it’s always healthy to linger a little longer, but now my drawings are overlapping, and although they’re weightless I can feel them consuming me. There are things you need to know about me. Like how I linger on things excessively, and how my mind is so hefty, I don’t think I’ll ever carry anything as heavy in my entire existence.

RIP

A girl I once knew passed away not very long ago. She was fighting a battle for a really long time, until her limbs eventually gave up. I mourned her so much. I think I still do, but not as often, not as much as I should. She made me feel whole and worthy. She made me feel alive. And now that she’s gone I hear her calling for me in my sleep every night, only to wake up to her death every day. I haven’t gone to visit her in a while. It’s not that I’ve forgotten her, I just don’t want to remember what it was like with her here. And I don’t want to cry anymore. People keep telling me to not cry over someone that is gone. But I miss her, like nobody could ever understand, and I would trade anything to see her staring back at me through the mirror just one last time.