we scream because we're scared
we cry because we're sad
we shout because we're upset
we giggle because we're excited
we talk because we're bored
we yell to get attention
but,
why do we whisper...

Zombies are gross, dead, smelly, and evil.

But...

Zombies are not gross, or dead, or smelly, or evil.

They are us.

Soft hands,
kind eyes.
Strong arms,
smooth voice.
Hard chest
enclosing me.

Facebook,
Messenger,
Instagram,
Snapchat,
Twitter, and
What's App.
But which one can we post poems on...?
Hello Poetry.

him: stop biting your lip. that's my job. softly chuckling
her: what? you gonna cut my arms too? and tie my nooses? and pop my pills? *fists clenched

Your star freckled hands
reach inside me-
Pleasure making me forget even momentarily
That this, is not a love story.

Your hands do nothing to soothe the empty hunger left behind.
When my bedsheets are no longer warmed with your body.

Like an echo I can feel my heart beat against my rib cage.
A violent rally of
Alone.
And it screams
Alone.
Thumps
Alone.
And my fingers trace it into your skin when you are making my body your temporary home
(Alone . Alone . Alone it sings )

And I must never forget that
your hands can make me moan your name
Shout praises to a god I don't even believe in-
But your heart could not bear
to love me for anything more than my body

-to the girls who confuse *** with love
And to the boys who think an ****** is a job well done