Heaven.
I'd die seven times if it took that many lives to be reincarnated with a destiny parallel to you.
You
Could get the best of me
Is it true that it could be, possibly-
That the entirety of the universe is versed to the melody of our hues and energies;
Energy:
The strength and vitality needed for sustained activity,
A persons physical and mental powers,
Like electricity surging through cosmic showers...
Do you wish upon a star when you see one fly?
Have you ever flown high enough to gaze down at the sky?
The haze of the atmospheres often glares the heavens, but I'm prepared to take you there
I swear
We could frenzy through the air like acrobats
See, I've got wings on my back
Hold on.
I recognize the ring to this song
We've danced through the streams of my dreams
Amongst the pyramids at the first beam of the morning sun
The pyramids gleam
It seems the existence of life has begun
A King and a Queen and a universe to conquer and run.

let's write a poem
I'll talk about my love of pain &
you can talk about your love of love

for you my heart beats faster
for you my lungs breath deeper
for you my day gets brighter
my hand writing better
for you I...
I forget, who are you again?

One of the most frightening things a person can do is to lay yourself down (mind body and soul) in the palm of another's hand. Let them strip you down until you are bare, donning nothing but your skin and the contents of your mind.Trusting another to find you just as beautiful (both inside and out) as you value your beauty to be.
The ability, to allow another to see the truths that compose your existence, doesn't always come easy. It takes a tremendous amount of bravery and courage to trust another person with the composition of your flaws and insecurities. Impurities. To give yourself to another; to hand over the key. Left only to wonder if they could still love you once they open the door and see.
When hoping for the best, we must leave space in our hearts to expect the worst. Nothing is ever promised, but if we keep faith in the universe,
Nothing is impossible.

Back off,
Stop involving yourself in my life
Back off,
I'll talk to, listen to and do whatever the hell I like
Back off,
I'm my own person- I can think for myself
Back off,
I didn't ask for your opinion
Back off,
Everyone has fears, insecurities and flaws
Back off,
No one ever asked for your help
Back off,
You don't even know me
Back.
The.
****.
Off,
I don't like you.

She's perfect
she's flawless
she radiates light
she's faultless
she's matchless
she's purified sight
unmatched beauty
and a conscience so clear
why would heaven have a place for her here?

Earth is like heaven where she will rot and dwell
*an angel like her is destined for hell.

People are like books. Each is different but has a story to tell; a story that can be seen and known by opening their pages, their layers. Each is unique, rich, deep, page after page, filled with life. Each waits to be lifted off from a shelf and into the hands of another; cared for, understood, and loved. But, each book is constantly judged by its cover. The truth and worth it holds - so important, sadly neglected and forgotten. And once someone reads them, some, the unlucky, can be replaced because, in time, the initial value that was once worthy is overlooked. Some may question if they are even worth the time anymore, and that is what scares me, and probably a lot more. As books, we hope to be found by the rarest few. The rarest few that willingly and continually understands you, comes back to you, makes sure you are cared for, remain loyal to you, and keeps you close, even if one day they stumble upon a more appealing cover.

Violet lips touch inside her pale
Slender wrist.
From these puncture holes, draw forth
A blue-black sledge of blood.
So, Spit the poison out
Hissing on white sheets.
And lie back, now
Rest, tucked in the violent, bruised
meditations of these forever fictional
hot, wet, sweating
fevered dreams
that pseudo lovers
lived and ****** in.
cradle hopes and gropings
in the dark, so everyone can see.
Fumbling zippers, fickle-fingers
Trace up and down the one-size-fits all
Manikins of their bodies.
Choking intuition out with
Rouged lips and bruised thighs.
Somewhere, a doll cries.
Cracked ceramics, lap with tongue against
The creased spine and
Thumping mounting moans of the
Sows in the fields
Echo sorrows held in harrowed hearts.