Each of us , had loss in our short lives here.
It reveals to others in our Lives who we are.
Just how strong , we truly are  here now.
For either we keep focusing on standing firm.
Or we fall apart, and end up being a loss too.
For some are like a tank , here on the earth.
Pushing through every single obstacle in our way.
Still others fall upon the floor in great defeat.
Ready to give in this crushing defeat here.
I, myself has been on both sides of the coin.
But the Great Lord has strengthen me enough.
So as of now, I stand firm and strong here now.

I'm so very sorry for giving up on you.
Just when you startled fighting for us.
I just gave up, I am so very sorry Woman.
It been a life time since I saw you last.
I am so sorry that I had hurt you so.
I am so sorry for letting go of us then.
I realize just how evil , I was then.
You were so Amazing and Awesome.
I seen the truth too Late, I am sorry.

She is a moth to flames,
fluttering so beautifully.
The night's light sparks her heart,
pumping doses of adrenaline.

Thump..
           Thump Thump
                              Thump

Pulsing.

Music booming, cocktail burning;
an Orange Twist in her hand.

Hey baby, can I get you another?
*******! You fine as hell!
Hey cutie, wanna dance?

Yes, she is a moth to flames,
always fluttering so blindly.
***** scalds her tongue and down her throat;
confused yet she twirls in the blaze.
The strands of her life unravel into
another unfamiliar home,
with another unfamiliar face.

The smell of white lies lined across the table,
a familiar friend to ignite her heart's beat.

 Thump..
           ThumpThumpThump

Pulsing.

Tug me into the ocean, deeper and darker, take me to heaven
I'm predictable, baby, and my poetry fits in the waves
but the ocean functions the same, cover me in your water
and turn me into the summer breeze I'm powerless, unseen
melt me like ice cream in a summer day, bring me to my knees to pray
dance me like a bonfire, wash the sand off my sweater or just
let me wear yours when this feeling needs rekindling

and suddenly all my favorite songs were about you
and suddenly all my favorite poems were about you
close your eyes to what you can't imagine, sixty seven
hours spent with you and I'm falling into you deeper than the sea
and hot like I'm dancing in your island flames
just to speed my heartbeat to match and catch yours

We're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to your jeans, we're watching the stars and we're moving
We're going down the green boulevard and we're cruising
you speak Romanian, I speak you, we're going to far
and moving to the beat as one and the wind blows the hair
in my face and I got news for you, I can see you just clearly
as I could before, carefully, barely hanging on and catching movies

I can't keep away from your kiss, back and forth want to feel
the rest of you and all of you can't wait to catch you all alone
we're in the sun and I'm moving from your mouth
to the hole in your heart, tell me how you feel and who you are
you speak barely, your rhythmic breaths tell me all I need to know
waste the day and spend all the time in your pockets, all alone
floating around your head and hanging midair in your palms like
a red balloon

-- mapping the world,
freckle by freckle
with my tongue,
I have found there are four of them
at various points across your belly, and

have I not allowed them entry
into this angry constellation
of teeth, and raw degradation
that has become my mouth

in the absence of you

I have digested them wholly,
never speaking of their beauty, for I
can not possess what I can not crawl into.

-- understanding the stipulation that what is
temporarily borrowed is not freely given,

again, it is you who are
so good at burning for me
what affection can imitate.

Sometimes I will take ******* clad photos
and post them
just to reassure myself
that my body is truly there
and truly mine to behold
and touch
and gaze at
sometimes I'm called "cute" or "a ****"
but how am I a ****
when all I have given you is
sight
and not
touch

I want to be able to touch my own skin
and feel...
skin
not ghost stories
not scars
or fabric bound
so tightly that I can't move
I want to feel my hand
graze my arm
without that graze
skimming cold fragile
porcelain

I am tired of my thoughts
wrapping themselves
around my throat
cutting into my skin
my thoughts are a rope
that would string me
from an oak tree

Sometimes I run
with my shoes untied
and I race the world
because I love the way the
wind slapping my face
and the inevitable fall onto the concrete
makes me feel alive
because I do not feel
alive
can you see the ruby-crimson
spiderwebs weaved into my eyes
I know you can
and I only know that
because they stick out
like a dysmorphia on my skin
my mother asks me if I'm ******
and it's much simpler to agree
than to tell her I've been crying
because I don't have to explain
drug abuse
but emotions require an entire doctorate

Sometimes when the winds
shakes me and pushes me forward
I wish I was
a porcelain plate
and that I would
fall down and
shatter.