I write this letter to my ******
chaste poisonous version
wondering
if kissing is
confused
with love

I drop to my knees revising
poetically describing
somewhere
above me
transfused
in lust

Ivory skin,
     alabaster nerves.
Daisy chain veins,
     lily petal fingertips.
Eggshell skull,
     cellophane lungs.
Brittle ladder ribcage,
     punctured balloon heart.
Spineless ***** child,
     with his birds' bones and naivety.

People pleaser.
Socialite.
Constant agreer.
Doing it right.
I bet you sleep so soundly at night.
I bet you sleep so soundly at night.

Someone different.
Something else.
Don't need nobody.
Don't need your help.
You want in.
I want out.

Attract and repel.
Attract and repel.

One solves a riddle.
The other lives a dream.
One longs to be loved.
The other wants to be free.

You say so many things that I can't feel.
And even though they can be pretty,
dreams aren't real.

Dreams aren't real.

Sometimes,
It's better to keep silent,
Than to tell others what you feel,
Because,
It hurts badly when you come to know that,
They can hear you,
But can not understand.