nic

I always preferred the moon,

maybe that’s why I’m drawn to you.

I searched for the stillness, the calm, the light..

then I met you,

I still love the moon but no longer search for it,

I look for you.

I always preferred the moon,

he made me like yellow again,

my natural hair, my natural skin.

he reminded me that lemons are my favorite fruit,

that I’m astute, but also cute.

he made me like who I’ve been,

my smile has shown once again.

he made me like yellow..

we’ve done this before,

I mean we’ve had to.

Knowing you is like unlocking lifetimes,

we’ve done this before,

the yearning the screaming for more.

we’ve done this before,

it was written, that I know.

we’ve done this before.

I’ve loved you in timelines, in lifetimes, in moments & more.

this isn’t our first time,

I want to reach out & run my fingers across your spine,

let my fingers trace careful strokes along your edges,

treating you like a special edition.

I want to slowly, gently..

turn your pages to fully appreciate your every quotation.

I want to annotate the parts I know I’ll never forget,

I could be real bad for you,

but damn it’s so good with you.

I could be the problem,

but damn you crave to solve it..

I could be your ruin,

alone & afraid.

afraid of the empty

I love you.

I hate you.

come closer.

not here.

I want you.

I’m lying.

forever.

You taste like liquor,

You smell like it too.

There is heat that lingers,

but that’s just you.

You make me warm deep in my core,

I don’t know what it is..

But please pour more.

I crave the burn,

the heat of you.

Scotch on your lips

Let me linger too.

I’m at your mercy,

a whore for more.

scotch on your lips,

when someone asks how I feel I simply say

chant in a thousand languages,

my tongue always speaks

of how I love you.

translation unneeded,

my tongue always speak

the language of how..

I’ve only really told you.

You’ve only ever known.

When I share something now it’s because I’m never really alone.

maybe we are a lot alike,

both scared of who we truly are.

scared of all that we do that isn’t pretty..

convinced that womanhood is meant to be soft all the time..

anything that doesn’t fit that mold is enough to be ashamed of.

maybe there is no one else to blame but ourselves.

someone once said if you tell someone enough times they are something they will have no choice

but to believe it or become it..

maybe that’s where my problems start.

maybe I became the product of someone else’s frustrations, their pain, their doubt & distaste.

being told I was cold one too many times,

made me like their hands in the winter..

reminded that I was too blunt,

made me sharp like their tongue.

telling me I was too serious,

made me someone no one takes serious.

showing me that I wasn’t enough,