let us
do only all the things we wish we could, if our lust and love was not so secret.

not just dream but see, touch and taste the mossy nectar of our wavy
pinkish, glistening seas
above and
beneath an ocean of silken sheets.

-By Alexandra Eames

sleep forsakes

me--craving

forgetfulness, too many

human beings have

died for this time,

their place.

Time doesn't heal.
And the wound knows it.
Layers gather on the ****
but the damage remains,
hiding itself deep inside
the secret scar

love can start as a small thing
it's so quiet you can pretend you don't hear it
but it gets loud
really loud
and you can't ignore it anymore