I love you
only in ways
I am allowed to.

I admire you
only from afar,
where I cannot touch you.

I dream of you
only in the deepest of nights,
an unconscious rendezvous.

I wish for you
only in silence,
not one desire, untrue.

I love you
only in the dark,
‘cause under the sunlight,
I’d be reminded of your
watermark—

you are not mine,
though I am yours.

I love you
alone
it is the only love
I’ve ever known.

short and contained moans
fill my ears—
i think of every gasp
as “i love you’s”
i know i would never hear

        hot and sweaty hands
        grasp my thighs—
        i think of every touch
        as promises
        i know you will let die

                strong and desperate hips
                ****** against my own—
                i think of every action
                as “i’ll miss you's”
                i know you’ll never think
                when you are alone.

        long and tired legs
        entangle with mine—
        i think of this finality
        as a self note
        to make this the last time.

cold and distant nothingness
fil the space beside me—
i try to think nothing of this,
i would only be,
once again,
lonely.

Sadness has a taste,
It's bittersweet, a soft bite,
It makes you crave more.

my flesh
is your canvas.
your hands smooth over my body
like a paint brush.
my body is covered in goosebumps
adding texture to the picture.
my body is throbbing,
aching, for your brush strokes
long stokes, filled with passion
fast short quick strokes that leave me
breathless, gasping for air.
your hands continue to trace the
outline of my body, like a pen on paper
they graze my *******, your fingertips
grip around my ******* as you twist and
pull.
your lips come into contact with my pale pink ones, your tongue is a satin brush caressing mine, swirling your brush around the inside of my mouth like you were cleaning off the excess paint.
your lips trails off down my neck
your teeth nibble on my skin
creating a masterpiece of deep purple tones.
I crave every inch of you inside of me.

t.h.

Penises make me uncomfortable because they have only been used against me. Uncomfortable is not a strong enough word to explain the disgust that rises up my throat, the sickening feeling that tears at my stomach and lungs, the feeling of having to retract all of my limbs into my body, or at least as close as physically possible.

I can not stand the thought of having *** with a male, but does that make me a lesbian? Or does that just mean I am terrified of the possiblity of experiencing PTSD? If I think these flashbacks are bad enough, I don't want to experience anything more.

I only date guys that resembles the man that hurt me first.

When I am in a perfect relationship, I ruin it on purpose because I am scared of commitment.

I crave the things that hurt me, like razor blades, and chemicals that fill my lungs and poison my liver. Like a firm hand, a hot flame, a brick wall; I even crave the sounds of warning that my body gives when it is slowly dieing. The white lights, ears ringing, the light headed feeling when I stand up. I crave the black circles under my eyes, the transparency of my skin, the feeling of bones. I crave the blood pumping through my veins going 70 on a road with my eyes closed. I crave self destruction.

I crave the scent of skin
And all its distractions.
The storm brewing within,
And the silent actions.

When Gods test their might,
Bring forth their glory,
Light turns day to night.
One word, one story.

Never will there be
Such craving and lust.
As when I met thee.
My heart is now dust.

The seeds of ice were set
Into the cold ground free.
Where fire met cold and wet.
Where shouts, became a plea.