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It's sad to say that at one point in time you held a part of me close to your chest. You dug deep into my soft pink flesh yet you deny me the comfort when I bleed. You make it clear that the space between my thighs is all you need. Silly of me to believe that we could still become more than the remnants of sweat covered bed sheets. Something worth living for. I wonder when I find my pretty, would you love me more? When the curve of my waistband bends inward, will you want me more? Will I know you then anyway? Stop ignoring me, stop acting like I don't exist Something in me just can't resist your warmth; in your hands I feel small, not as tall, weightless in your grip. Why can't it just exist?

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Slain
11:04 Feb 02 2018

Hmm.

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There is a young woman who walks alone in the streets at night with stars in her hair and the moon in her eyes.

There is a young woman with wild flowers blooming from her breasts as she lies naked under a lilac sky - thinking about the sun and why it always leaves kisses on our skin but refuses to let us see it's face.

There is a young woman who is haunted, painting her thoughts as if they are ghosts in an abandoned home. Painting strangers as lovers in Time Square, convinced that her canvas is the universe and her brush is destiny.

There is a young woman who is writing sonnets on broken glass and building libraries in the cracks of her brain.

There is a young woman out there, who turned water into flames, rekindling lost love with burnt matches, carrying the world on her fingertips.

She gave her heart away that night with drunken kisses and dizzy eyes. She kissed more liquor bottles than lips and she felt so alive yet misused. She stumbled with the world toppling over her shoulders and a deadline hanging over her head. She had a bomb in her chest and she was ready to set it off. Days filled with coffee stained lips and empty smiles wandered off that night. She crazed kisses like a desperate lover and jumping from cliffs didn't seem so frightening anymore. Red lipstick sucked out of her lips and dark shadows enveloped her eyes and cheeks. She was wild. She was free. She was a walking disaster filled catastrophe.