All I ever wanted was to know the love of a mother.

Even though I know who you are, I don't know what your love feels like.

I wanted to lay in my mother's bed and cry during my first heartbreak.

Other girls could call their mother's for advice, and I just had to figure everything out.

Until the day I die, I will always wonder what it feels like to have a mother's love.

#SuchABelle

I still feel amused when I think of her red dress

I mean, everyone knows you don't put silk against silk

and the feel of her skin

couldn't have been anything else

yet the memory

of how easily

it slipped off her body made it worth the while,

you see,

my amusement

and that tangible electricity in the air that she provided

made the most interesting mixture... it really did

what a silly, little dress it was

. . . this bottle of

Love you feel is . . .

“hermetically sealed”

You carry precariously

a feeling you can

not spill . . .

Love is what you

have yet cannot give

You can go hot . . .

. . . or cold . . .even

grow old . . . and

never from out of

you can your love

be poured . . .

Only you yourself

can sip of it and

know its punch to

say you love or not

this much . . .

and sense to the full

extent (dis)comforts

as such . . .

What can the lover

offer then to another ?

. . . .

Yourself, and life zest,

your influence, time and

presence in entirety . . .

as the Gift itself.

#ProseInspired #Love

We are infinite

Travel across the galaxy

Orbit your solar system

Hoping to fall into your planet

Asteroids Are the obstacles that prevent me from reaching an 7hrs difference

Meteor are what happens when we collide

Interstellar of darkness

Black holes are the negative energy that disrupts this world

In a sky of stars

Couldn’t shine my way home

Travel light years

And still would never be able to reach you

What it’s like to love the infinity

And never reach your serenity

Comets are empty wishes

Never land is place filled with should of and would’ve

Shooting stars

Are leftovers from pixie dust

Mars

Is the train stop

To home

And back

But earth don’t even want me

And Saturn rings couldn’t even contain me

And I can’t keep jumping to Jupiter

And get lost in your fumes

We hit the gas

In our spaceship

We haven’t even hit the takeoff

Stuck in the stages

1

See trip into the past

And fall back to the future

I ain’t even gonna lie

I tried that clock

Stuff

It didn’t work

I tried to jumpstart

The future

Maybe that’s why I crashed when I landed

See I still stuck in the spacesuit

Cause I am scared of this big blue world

I walk around like astronaut

Can’t even touch the ground

I am vibing on a new wave

See ground control

To major Tom.

Landed in the moon

Left my footprint

So you know I tried

Apollo

We a landmark

They thought

We would never make it

Stabilize all landings

I amma need you to see me your location

I amma eject myself

Cause i am foreseen

The danger of riding at a speed I can’t seem to control

Transmit my message

Solar panels

Sos

Fall from the sky

Maybe I fall from crowds

Slip into a black hole

And maybe we could meet in the middle

Of destruction

We got lost in. Our child dreams

Looking for a star

They all look the same

We your eyes have gone gray

And mermaids look like fish

When the magic runs out

And tiger lily

Is just a flower

And Peter Pan

Is just peanut butter

Tinker bell

Is just new drug

And Wendy

Is just an restaurant

And hook is just something kids use to hang themselves in bathrooms

And smitty

Is the nickname is given to me

And pixie dust

Is cocaine

Boats don’t fly

Only airplanes

Everbody is a lost boy

Love ain’t real

Cause it will leave you blue

Tiaras break when applied with pressure

And boys aren’t princes

Their frogs

And happily ever after

Is for story books

You could paint with all the colors of the wind and still feel dead

You could see the light and be consumed by darkeness

You could be in a whole new world and still feel like an alien

You could look in your reflection and hate yourself

You could be a genie in a bottle , but the make tricks run out , and frown will appear

You could be a beauty and the beast and the monster would still overpower you

You could be a sleeping beauty , and have insomnia

You could be as far as you go , but be closer to death

You could dream a wish your heart makes and still dream a nightmare

The world gone gray

He hands me a pack of color pencils

And says color your reality

And I smirk

Cause he has eyes still have color in them

And he still smile like the world was never broken

And he stares at me

At my broken mind

And sees a world

I don’t tell him it is a funeral

Cause he making flower crowns

How fitting I think

I am Persephone

The goddess of hades

Bury me in roses ....

And I will color your world in pastels

I keep a tally

Etched firmly on the inside

Of my rib cage.

It’s a count

To remind myself

Of all the times

I’ve fought the monsters within me

And won.

#poetry

Never reveal

Openness to others

Without consent

Or at least a warning,

Right?

Really,

It would be selfish for

Everyone to hear my worries...

Selfish.

Marshmallows suck. There. I said it. Before you attack me hear me out. Let me set the scene. You're sitting outside on a chilly October night, surrounded by your closest friends, laughing and singing dumb campfire songs. Even though the music is loud, the comforting crackling of the fire is still heard and it reminds you that you are here. You are not spinning around alone and forgotten. You are here. In your best friend's backyard, with your other friends, with food, with music. For a split second, everything is okay. You don't think about how you failed your Chemistry test. You don't think about how your dad left. You don't think about how Katniss should have gotten with Gale. You don't feel crippled by life. You feel okay.

Until Emma brings out the marshmallows. Sure, some people like them. They're soft. Squishy. Kind of like boobs. But those little clouds of gelatin, corn starch, sugar and water are demons in disguise. They are impossible to roast properly. If you overcook them they shrivel and burn, just like your GPA. If you undercook them, they're hot and cold. Indecisive. Just like that girl you were gonna ask out. Marshmallows can act like they are perfect. All golden on the outside when really they are just sticky and gross on the inside, just like your life. On the outside you seem to have everything together when in reality you are just as confused and lost as everyone else. But, for the sake of those still clinging to the hope that marshmallows are good, lets just say you were able to correctly cook one. It's golden. Melty. Not too burnt, not too soft. Right in between.

Now try eating it. You can try this three different ways. The first, is just eating it right off the skewer. Good luck with that. You will burn your face off. In your haste to remove the smoldering skewer from your face you will burn your fingers. You will end up in the emergency room with second degree burns and when the nurse asks you what happened, you will lose all dignity and tell her you tried to eat a marshmallow.

The second, is waiting until the marshmallow has cooled down enough to touch and eating it with your hands. Bad plan. Very. Bad. Plan. Only three things can bring something together faster than a college student with a two hour deadline; Hate, the gel form of super glue and a half melted marshmallow. Got melted marshmallow between your fingers? Get used to living a cohesive life with your fingers cemented together, because friend, that's never coming off. It will get stuck in your hair. It will get stuck in your clothes. Accidentally touch someone? Congratulations! You and that poor person are now siamese twins. There is no escaping it. You will suffer through life with a preventable handicap. All because you tried to eat a marshmallow.

The third and final way one can try to enjoy a marshmallow is by making a smore. What could be better than a warm chocolate covered melted marshmallow squished between two golden graham crackers? Sanity. Have you ever tried to eat a smore? The chocolate never stays on the marshmallow. The graham crackers always break. You will burn fingers and your mouth. The chocolate will always be colder than the marshmallow. And those are just the trials of eating a smore, I'm not even going to mention how hard it is to make one. Twenty years later you are still living in denial. You still pretend to enjoy this process. You are trapped in a never ending saga, because you just had to eat a marshmallow.

So, Emma brings out the marshmallows. Everyone gets up and goes for the skewers. You sit alone, accompanied only by the cold air, distant laughter from friends and the fire. The red, blue and orange swirl together into flames and the comforting crackling has now turned into a mocking laugh. You are alone. Again. Marshmallows suck.

sipping sweet serenity,

sacrificing sadness.

soul searching,

sightseeing smiles.

scrambling sudden stress,

starting storms.

screaming sporadically,

sorrow singing,

sharp seizures,

sensitivity.

soothing soulmate saw.

sharing sympathy,

supplying shelter.

shine,

special sunshine.

My skin is infinite. It stretches on for miles and miles. It has curves, swivels, crests and troughs. It is the layer of me that everybody can look through, but nobody can peel away. It is that fragment of my existence that defines my rank, king or pauper, peer or slave. It is the true hallmark of my work.

It forever binds me to my tribe. Yet it encourages me to break away. It reminds me of the legacy that I have been bestowed, of the sacrifices of my loved ones.

Yet I keep thinking, how does it resist and refract so much? How does it swim in water and not dissolve away? How does it hear all the insults and not fall and break away? How does it feel everything and not wither away?

Every birthmark that spans the course of your skin is an encouragement. An encouragement to prompt you, to show you that bumps and hurdles are not stop signs, they are just to warn you of the speedbreakers ahead and to prepare you for life.

It is truly an ally, sticks with you till the end (pun intended) .

And remember ,every difference that exists on the skin, reflects the longing for unification deep within.

8/10/18

I forgot how to make love,

when you ripped it all away from me.

You took it,

stole it,

a thief in the night.

You left me fucking empty.

And it is dark,

I am loveless,

you ripped it all away.

So I am left wishing I could remember how to make love,

and how to forget you.