Cranberry lips leave a thin line around the rim
He doesn’t remove it- thinks it’s hot and I’m fine
Wet lips explore his mouth and he tastes me like sweet candy
Relishing the intimate moments we’re daring to share
In the quiet of the moonlight we take our time to touch
To feel his large hands cupping me it’s almost. too. much.
Love or lust? Does it matter? Do I care?
His dark eyes and warm tan body makes me want to sin
Suddenly we are skin to skin and my hand rubs up and down him.
I am somewhere else not where I am lost in this daisy atmosphere going up, up, up
I was in a good place the other day but now I’m drifting away- too far, too much
As if there were no gravity to hold my soul in place and it hurts as it’s being torn out
The bpd is getting the best of me driving people I love away- even after he took me back
What kind of a fool am I that my mind torments me so as indelicacy grips my ribs and won’t let go
Will I survive another day to endure more of myself or at least what is left of this mad hat sanity
I am somewhere else not where I am and lost in this daisy atmosphere.
Trying to unravel these ravings that ravish my mind tied up as they are in time
The dirtiness abounds the cravings become and I try to behave like a normal being
Mortal wounds flare up and push me down as I fondle these letters in my soft hands
Unraveling feelings until raving and partying ravishes my mind warped in time.
She grips the pillow tightly like someone may come in the room and take it. Not the one under her strawberry blonde hair, of course, but the one her boyfriend lays on. It’s comforting this cold night. She listens to the low hum of the fan that’s constantly running and that steady droll makes her feel better. There’s a loneliness when the dark world has their eyes shut and you’re the only one awake.
Write something! Break this long, fucking dry spell of writer’s block-even if what comes out completely sucks. Your few fans may understand, being writers themselves. If they laugh at you-you’ll never know it! Hold that head high! Just remind them you’re a stoic poet with a slight sense of humor. And maybe they will come back and read more another day…