I already do things with my curtains open.
I just want to witness someone getting off of me getting off.
I want you in cold sheets
with bruise kissed knees
begging me to glaze your thighs
with flicks of my tongue
as your golden honey
a slippery slope of
Allow me to devote the rhapsody of my voice
to the neighboring soul
that fights with emotion
leaving me with sweet songs
to listen to on lonely evenings
when the stars forget to gleam
their wish filled iridescence.
I’ll soon be dreaming of the times
when your face wasn’t a distant memory
but a part of my days when
my smile wasn’t pretend.
You should kiss me for Christmas.
That would be the best temporary present that I’ll live my life remembering.
We hide the damage
with the long sleeves of winter
because cuts and scrapes
aren’t what the knives are used for, after dinner.
Scars may eventually fade
but we both know more will be made.
These wrists fight wars
behind closed doors.
I’m still stuck in the beginning days of September
hoping that this new school year might turn out better.
I’ve been forced to count calories
and calculate grades
hoping that the space between my legs
doesn’t go away
as the stress of getting A’s
increases every day.
While High, You Are My Low
By Jean Roy
This California haze
only temporarily blinds your face
from the memories I can’t erase.
This loneliness replays
in my mind each and everyday.
How can I be so high
and feel so low at the same time?
I guess shattered love,
is stronger than what’s in this blunt.
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