My Eyes Are Closed

The things your eyes have seen and done to me make me blush enough for you to notice.

Everything happens for a reason. How about almost kissing your lips? Is it nothing more than a drunken accident? I felt it all today: anxiety, happiness, relief, stress. You made me open up in the way I was afraid to, and this helped me understand what it is that I really feel when put in a beautiful building with no one but you and my heart. I'm glad you let my soul come bare and made me say the things i was afraid of. To think I feared showing you what it's like inside my head... Your hand in my hair, and these tears that proved my greatest fears were nothing but distractions from the real affection I hold for you. But in your eyes is where I want drown, where I want to die because it would be the happiest death if it was as honest and dark as you are. And as you held my hand and pulled me closer to your face, that fear struck again. I couldn't let you. I care far too much for you to give into the temptation. As close to your eyes as I was your lips were much darker... They were begging to be touched in any way, and my self control made its debut at the best time possible to shut me out. But boy did I enjoy the view. Is it weird that pulling your hair gave me ideas one should not think of under these circumstances? And the thought of your lips almost brushing past mine wakes the butterflies buried inside my stomach and makes me turn into a child again. Sharing a dance very close to your body made me feel content. It gave me hope I didn't know existed before, so thank you, for making me feel, and showing my thoughts in a more open setting, away from the head itself.

Pink is The Color of Your Lips

I want to melt with your skin. 

Feel your fingers on my back dimples. 

Let me show you the color of fire coming from my heart.

Bring me the flush opon your face and make it mine.

No words, just breathe near my face.

I want to know how it feels when you lift up my chin and see the light coming through my eyes.

Baby, does it feel like the Sun is so high?

No clouds for this love, just rays from the sky.

Take me away from reality, and push me further away from sanity.

I want to be yours. 

Only yours. 

What's Your Number?

One day. Three guys asking for my phone number. I guess you could say this semester is about to get interesting. But that is not something I cared much for today. What is there, inside me, is a kind of affection you do not feel everyday. Something that seems to grow in a way and grasps my skin when i least expect it. 

The carpet is rough, but being against the wall and talking about failed affairs with some success with a good friend makes for a great scene. We might have spent minutes, hours or days there, it would all make for the same feeling of sleepiness after a big lunch. Watching bodies as they walk past us, but not really looking through them, is more fun that one might imagine. Oh how I loved those shorts, and how beautiful her hair was. He might be too tall and she is wearing the wrong shoes. All just pathetic attemps at making oneself feel better while beating another about it. Not in a negative light, I hope you understand, but more in a way that could entertain me enough around 3 PM. Sitting there, I watch and a minute of distraction places my eyes indirectly onto him, walking by me, not aware of my being, just doing his own thing. To follow? Yell? Run? No, nothing more than to send a text that makes for a conversation with him. But wait, what is so interesting about this? The moment I became aware of his presence my heart sent out a signal to the rest of the body giving me a rush I haven't felt in a while. What is this silly song my body sings and where can I stop it from replaying itself? I promise, I am not falling from him, I promise. It seems as though the wrong people always feel better for us, ain't that the truth? But I enjoyed the feeling, it was something I thought would take a while to break free from my heart. The blood flows stronger, better and gives me the power over the words on this paper. Call him a friend, form of inspiration or someone who simply exists, but his being makes mine fill with joy in its own twisted way. So how would I feel if he ever read this? To be honest, it would not change much for me. These are all of my feelings, all of my thoughts, drained onto this virtual notebook.  And as long as I have a reason to write, him knowing of it will not affect me much. He can take it as flattering or come suprised, shocked even as to my even dare to write such things.  Because, in all honestly, if it was centuries behind this view on a man in a loving relationship could be frowned upon, even thought of as tasteless. But you take it as you want it as long as I leave a mark on your mind.

I Can't See It

The dress is long, black, with straps all over the back, placed in a way that could help me seduce with nothing more than the movement of my shoulders. I might try it, if only to prove my point. Even the kimono and fringe hanging from it cannot express how feminine I feel in the new version of me. She is happier, focused, and knows what she wants. The only thing that she would tumble with is the image of him hovering over her like a hawk. The possibility is barely there BUT you never know what life has planned out for you. What would I do? How would I react? Wave, say hello or simply ignore? How about not think about it, and yes, that would be nice, but we all stress over the idea of a past lover or friend showing up in front of our eyes because we usually don't do what was rehearsed 3 nights ago when the possibility was learned about. You might feel your body cramp up, and your mouth dry but guess what? No matter what you do or say they are not there to stay. 

I want to see him, because closure is an important part of the moving on process and seeing that person just one more time will show you how exactly do you feel. The only ex person I got to see in the past two days was a guy, who was fun, but no real man to end things by telling me straight up, but instead stopping all contact without a warning which is probably the easiest thing to do. I am almost certain men fear our reactions if we are told such things face to face but guess what? I will only stand stronger and better when it's done, so it is up to you to find the way more "appropriate" for you. I want to write more tonight, but my eyes are begging for rest, and my brain needs a break from overthinking even now when there is yet no actual work for college. 

All I need is Chopin and E.A.Poe. No other inspiration will matter much to me. If it doesn't make you feel the darkness under your skin, congratulations, you might have it easier than the next guy. 

Some Type of Way

I have stories to tell, real stories, ones that actually happened to me. The only thing they lack is me telling them to you, the reader. I haven't read in a month or so, and there has been no writing done in the past few months, the months I have spent crying in secret, all over a man that broke me down, tore my wings apart and spread his in the other direction. Even the strongest woman will break at the sight of true love. It might not be pure or perfect, but if you feel it, it is real. But these stories are not all about him. Some are of the men that I "stumbled" upon on my way to a healthy relationship (as if I have any clue what color it is, how it tastes or feels on my skin), which i need, according to people who find themselves close to me in one way or another. As I decided to start off a new year in my collegiate life by being close to perfection in my studies, I also chose to write everyday no matter how boring, obnoxious, sappy or dramatic it may be. I need the practice, and I know I will find my way to the voice I am searching for, the one that makes every letter taste like chocolate, and as it molds together I will make the perfect cake for you to eat. It might take a while for the perfect recipe, but I will get there and you will be left with a taste of me, the girl with a heart hidden inside the box of ice. 

Now that the introduction is out of the way, the new semester has started today, and I find myself overthinking again. You see, I feel something for a man, but I am not yet sure of the power it holds over me. It could be a wonderful friendship with no intentions whatsover, but the joke is on me because I am in love with his brain. And not in a sexual, or "I want to date you" kind of way, but in a way that I could listen to him all day and make it through the night, because it feeds me, it feeds that hunger inside me. It doesn't have the power as strong as the one I felt before, where I would linger with the mere thought of that man's tongue and breath on my neck, but I finally feel something, and I haven't felt anything in a while. So what should I do? Let it take its way over and around me. And here I thought I could care about my close friends, and that would be all that I felt, but if his words continue getting closer to me, I will hate him anywhere far way from me and would need a higher dosage of his wisdom. Just a warning before I go on, I am all over the place with metaphors because I believe in writing what I feel at that exact moment. To further my story of his wisdom, I need you to know that I am of course, physically attracted to him so it makes the entire "story" fit even better together, because if there is something that is even better than the words flicking from his tongue it is definitely the way his lips are curved to perfection. Yes, I pay attention to details. And no, I cannot make too much contact with him because I know he will read my eyes well, and that scares me, because his friendship means more than any feeling of love ever would. It's funny because we only hung out alone two times but when people connect, that is all that really matters. I know there is so much more that he has to say and I want to listen to it, enjoy what comes out, because it is beautiful in its own dark way. Oh man, have I taken this post too far? Made it seem like I am in love with the guy? I hope you didn't get that idea because I am only paying tribute to his beautiful soul, and how rarely such a person comes along in my life. I think that would be enough adoring for one night, farewell until tomorrow.