You always spoke of making love
but only used me for a  ****

Like a bad dream you held me
My spine still clicking to the rhythm of your teeth
as you ever so gently wrapped your arms around me

You only spoke of making love
but it never happened, not once.

I only felt flame
but never fire underneath.
You only burned me,
always left me freezing.

Slender
you wear
a palatine Ivory
beneath your dress.
I trace the sea of your eyes
with mine.
As you catch your lip between teeth
and tilt your head, beaconing
my gaze with yours.

your smile unbuttons my shirt
and you twist, the wings of your hips,
Urgent, seek my grip.
We find a bedroom.
My back finds the burnished brick
as you push me to it
your hands lead mine
to curve of your waist,
to the loops in your lace.
and all is undone.

Lips sink to neck, to shoulder
To breast, to the pink betwixt your ivory.
and soon we are sundered on linen sheets
like tulip petals after a storm.

she invited sadness
into her bed,
and let it
**** her
all.
night.
long

We're just ******* in the
mountains, like a couple of
mountains wolves biting into each others
flesh and having the greatest
meal           of all time.            4,000 feet above the
sea-level is where we like to       ****     the     most,
because the breeze cools our sweat
and only the birds can hear our
                                             howls.

i hate to be graphic and upsetting, but i need to write this. please refrain from reading.

first thing on my mind is
harm
what i feel like i deserve is
pain
it is not even a coping mechanism to me anymore
it has become routine
i fixate on it
i need to do it
i have to or else
i cannot bear to be myself
in my cold skin
i can't even look in the mirror
i'm a ******* monster
the slow sensation on my arm
is relieving and reassuring
that i am still deserving of it

i remember when i was 13
and i grabbed my weapon
and ran to my room
shut the door
turned out the light
sat down on the floor
and wept
if only i had known
what i was getting myself into
fast forward 5 years
and i am still there
on the floor

the reaction from my mother when i confessed
shocked me and took me by surprise
how could you be mad at me
i thought to myself
but now i realize why
i was her masterpiece
never to inflict harm on myself
and there i was
ruining what was hers
my skin

it's always there
most times a burden
other times a sign of resilience
a reminder of my monster
my corrupt side
of low self-esteem and self-worth
that i seem to never gain back
i won't ever hide it
i won't ever get rid of it
because i can't

i am not proud
most people say i'm a pathetic fool
crying for attention
desperate for others to see
but no one ever notices
and it lets me know
that it will always be
my little secret
a habit that was once by choice
but now by force

i wonder if i will ever grow out of it
like they said i would
years ago
i have accepted the fact that
i love it
and will never let it go

Trendy, it is
to be unattached.
Just *******,
nothing else to it.
It simply is-
just *******.

I can ****
whoever I want
whenever I want
because that's what ******* feminism is, right?
To use my ******
and my body
in any way I
******* please.

My *****, my choice, right?

I can flash my ****,
show everyone my piercings-
and then demand respect.
Because that's what feminism is, right?

My body, my choice.

No.
My body, my ******* church.

When the **** did love go out of style?

All these trendies
just *******-
making just ******* a style,
persuading everyone to think it's ******* great
to expose your deepest self
to someone who doesn't even know
how you take your coffee.

All these ******* can't
**** me
the way a ******* lover
can love me-
blow my *******
brains out
shoot me to the *******
stars
tie me up
suffocate me
in the most intoxicating feeling
that'll make your *****
tingle
in jubilant joy-
make you never wanna ****
with any other
******
because they can't shoot you to the ******* stars
in ******
the way that love can.

****** is more than just
*******.

When the **** did it become cool to give little pieces of yourself to all the little ******* who never could make you come?

When the **** did it become cool to stop loving?
To stop caring?
To stop respecting?

Your body, your choice
Your *****, your choice
Your ****, your choice.
Your life, your choice.
But nothing is as good as love is-
nothing can make you feel better
like a good lover can.
Nothing can bring you up,
make you shine,
build your respect,

and *******-
as good
as good love can.

What's the hold up?
Why are we on pause?
I'd suggest you start warming up
If you want an early surprise from Mrs. Clause
I have red ruby lips for you to kiss on
I want you to kiss me till I'm fully breathless
I really want a large ******* to sit upon
**** me till my screaming is all helpless
First, **** me like you love me,
Then **** me like you hate me
Eat my ***** like a savage, it's all warm and tasty
Baby, if I squeeze too hard, don't quit licking
It'll be all worth it for this cherry picking