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Heart Shaped BruisesWe both bare our marks now,
mine just happens to be a bit more visible then yours.
I haven't been able to stop smiling for the past three days and I'm beginning to think this is a good thing, like it's how I really should have been a along.
At this point it doesn't mater that I can't move my neck or that your ribs are bruised or even that we still can't identify who the blood staining the sheets belonged too.
It maters that I had my moment and you had yours, and that we ended it together, laying close, contently giggling.
To My HusbandMy best dress smells like the Camels you bummed from our Thursday night shrink.
You're not a smoker and I'm not an alcoholic, and that's the only reason couples counseling is working out.
I don't think we've had a sober interaction in over a year,
and I think we should keep it that way.
for the kids.
Untitled 2 (Kismesitude)You look at me with understanding eyes, completely missing the point.
We're in the same boat, but I may have just been pulled over to drown in my own self loathing.
I hate you but, but that's not true, I'm not sure there’s a word for how I feel.
I want to break you.
Throw you to the ground, my foot crushing down on your ribs, break your jaw, then kiss you while my knuckles turn white around your throat.
Leave you to pray for mercy that I will not give.
I love you,
but not in a way that can't be prefaced without hate.
Not in a way that I want you, but that I need you.
In a way that you compel and complete me.
I hate you.
And there's nothing more to say.
Untitled 1My innocence is comparable to your own as I rip your flesh away from your bone, praising your trust all along.
Weak knees bear down on your chest, shortening your breath and stealing your consciousness bring you closer to death.
Blood pools at the corners of your mouth, as I pull you slowly closer, lips meet as your breath does cease.
I blame your affections for this lusty violent rage,
maybe your heart would still pump blood through your vains if you’d restricted the attention you paid.
This Is Not A Love PoemThis Is Not A Love Poem (the titles telling the truth)
I kiss the nape of your neck and prey you won't remember this kindness in the morning.
And I'm afraid.
Afraid you'll leave me like everyone else has.
That's why I hold you do tight,
That's why I refuse to let go,
That's why I push you away with feigned malice,
Just to see if you'll come back.
And I Was Six Years OldSomewhere amid the flying Nerf darts
and the laughter
I was six years old again, and I can say I was smiling for real.
You were my childhood friends
and we stayed up late on a school night
because the PTA meeting had run to long and the baby sitter just didn't care.
There was no malice in this fight
as we chased each other up and down the hall, dogging misspelled couches and chairs.
All but a hand full of our shots hit, but that didn't matter,
because as soon as the last gun was emptied we pause, pick up, and start again in a renewed fit of giggles.
I want to spend all of my nights like this, slung over chair backs, using ill fitting shirts as capes, and aiming haphazardly as you duck back under a table.
I want to laugh, and smile.
I want to be six years old again, so time won't pass so quickly by.
PetalsThe grass tickled between her toes as her father toiled away with the roses by the letterbox. She watched his fingers weave between the thorns to pat the soil around each bush, humming to some John Lennon song she couldn't put a name to. Despite the sun just tipping the horizon, she saw sweat prickling his brow and his eyes squinting against the light. The fine lines on his face were suddenly accentuated by shadow, and for a moment, she swelled with wonder.
'Maria, come here,' he said, waving her over. 'You're not going to learn anything sitting all the way over there.'
Excitement sparked her limbs into motion, and she crawled over to sit next to him, careful to tuck her skirt beneath her thighs to avoid the dirt.
He picked up a pair of clippers from beside him. 'Now, you need to snipe back these diseased parts here and there from the base of the plant. It helps it grow better.'
Snipping off two pieces of wood with ease, he deposited them in Maria's outstretched hand. Their rough textu
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More