Tattoo Kisses Can't Be Seen On Black Hearts

His kisses were tattoos

Engraved in my skin

Bleeding ink from his lips

That kissed me like a needle

And it felt so good.

He kissed me places no man had even seen before

And left his marks on my skin.

I told him “Kiss me pink”

But his ink was only black.

His eyes, they were brown

And his skin, was mahogany

But he kissed me black

And that would have been fine

Because I longed for those tattoo kisses

But the last place he kissed was my heart

And we all know black hearts are no place to find love. 

Lemonade and A Porno

yummy, sweet
Taste my sticky
I taste like honey, I promise
Drown me with your tongue...

I'll be your lemonade
But don't worry about bringing the sugar
I'm already sweet enough...

Baring my soul

This is me. Basically I feel empty, broken, incomplete. I try not to feel the way I do so I smile and I laugh and I drink but on the inside I still feel…less. Like I should be more. I’m afraid to cut loose and do all the things I know I can because I’m afraid of failure. I’m afraid of how my loved ones will look at me if I fail. I’m afraid of what it will be like when I fall asleep every night and reflect on myself. I think too much, I don’t think enough. No one knows me because I don’t know me. I can be on a high and no one will ever know how broken I am but then I crash and no one knows how to pick up the pieces, not even me. I want to please everyone because I don’t know what to do to please myself. I’m lost but I’m scared to find myself.

I’ve never been in love. I’m too scared. The closest attempt I ever had ended in an epic failure and ever since then it scares me. I’m not scared of falling in love; I’m just scared of loving the wrong person. I don’t trust my own judgment I guess. I never let people in because I don’t feel like the kind of man that I want would want me back. So I get scared and I ruin every chance I have of finding someone to be with. I’m the biggest cynic I know. I honestly don’t believe in “everlasting love” I guess. I feel like people have passion and then it turns to companionship and eventually fades to comfortability. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. But I laugh at other people’s relationships and always doubt true love. I don’t try to be that way but in my mind if it’s too good to be true then it must not be true. I wish I could just stop being so guarded and be happy for once.

She Died/Unspoken Secrets

This is easily the most personal poem I have ever written about an experience that happened when I was young. It's not my usually pattern of writing at all but this came out one day so I have left it as is. It comes in two parts. Part one is She Died:

She died that night
But her lungs kept breathing
And her heart kept beating
She died that night
With his image forever burned in her retinas
She died that night
Words in her throat but he told her 
"Never speak" and she didn't
She died that night but nobody noticed
She was the dead girl with a pulse
She died that night
When he took her soul 
And something else she can never get back
She died that night, withered away
The wind carried her innocence to a distant land
And it drifted through the window of another girl
Who took comfort in knowing she wasn't the only one
Who was afraid to speak


Part two of this poem is called Unspoken Secrets:

How dare you?
How dare you ask me a question like that?
It's not why didn't I say anything,
It's why didn't you listen?
When I had something to say 
You were too busy
But now, now you say you care?
I used to want to tell you
Back then it meant so much to me
And now that I don't care
You want to take the time
I'll kill you and myself before I ever tell you 
Because the truth would do that anyways
It still hurts but I'm used to that pain
My face forgot how to smile
And my heart forgot what happiness was
So no, I won't tell you my secret
I'll take it to the grave where it belongs
Because I'm already dead

The World Isn't Ending

I had an idea when I wrote this but I feel like it might not have come across very clearly so I really don't know if I like this one but here it is:


it's over
...someone has brought down the cover
of the veil of time
And snuffed out the burning light of eternity
The souls mourn but the flesh is in denial
Moving on, pushing forward even while
The world is burning invisible fires
Now comes the blanket of silence
Stifling the violence, cease all the hating, lying, debating
Neighbors disintegrating before my very eyes
I saw it all
Mountains tumbling, cities falling, Mankind dying
But all hidden carefully
Behind the facade of lies that we call life
All an act, me a poet, you a murderer
And most ironically of all, you the actress...aren't we all?
Composure, what we display
Faith, what we need
As the curtains close over our final act
We open our eyes to notice...
Why isn't the world ending?
Because...
It's already over

The Cursed One

So here is one of my older poems. I posted it how I originally wrote it down but now I don't know if I like the way the lines are broken down. Hopefully it flows right.


Do I look familiar?
Yes of course I do because I'm her,
The dark angel of your dreams
Who pushed you over the edge and smiled in your face as you fell a million miles
From my arms
And it was me who caught you at the bottom
With an eternal tear etched on my face
Just another everlasting tear that fell from my begging eyes
And quenched your soul
Rekindled your passion
Before you looked around and realized
"I'm dead"
Welcome to Hell, where dreams are lost in the face of infinity
Yes it was me, cursed be my name
Dark Angel

Get advertisers to MyLikes - Sponsored Post

Get advertisers to MyLikes - mylikes.com

This is a really easy and relatively inexpensive way to get started advertising your company on the web.

sponsored like

Princess, DUH!'s profile on MyLikes

Me and Poetry (Confessions of A Dreamer)

I've written poetry since I was in the second grade. Little simplistic poems of course, nothing of substance. When I was in the fourth grade I won a contest for a free wagon by writing a four line poem about recycling lol. So basically writing has always been my muse.

Whether I was happy or mad or upset or confused the only way for me to release myself was through pen and paper. What I write doesn't always make sense and it isn't always good, but it's always me. Honestly without seeing my thoughts and emotions scribbled onto a paper, sometimes I forget who I am.

I haven't written anything in a long time and I think that might be why I've been so lost lately. It's not that I haven't tried, little fragments of poems or ideas to build upon come to mind but every time I sit down to clear my head the words won't come to me.

Even now I find it hard to write this, my mind is to boggled down with all the extra things going on in my life but this blog is where I'm going to be me. This is where I can take a few minutes out of the day to refocus and center myself.

I have always put a big emphasis on dreams and what they mean to me. My family refers to me as The Dreamer because I think too much & I can spend a whole day just daydreaming...So when I'm not being Mary or Lola or Minnie, I am just The Dreamer and these are my confessions....

...Said The Wolfe to Little Red

This poem is short, sweet, dark, and delightfully twisted =] I love the way my mind works...

pick some for your mother
and pray they don't prick her finger or her heart,
because blood roses are a sure sign of the Devil
and thorns can kill the best of them...

I Am

This was originally a poem I wrote for a school assignment but I kind of fell in love with it after I wrote it.

I am the rhyme and the reason 

I wonder what dreams may come 

I hear the songs that only angels and poets can hear 

I see the phoenix rising from the ashes to take her place among the legendary 

I want to dance upon the fabled surfaces of the patina of time 

I am the rhyme and the reason 

I pretend to hear the haunting celestial melody of the stars 

I feel the tangibility of inspiration at my fingertips 

I touch heaven one stanza at a time 

I worry that I may never find the substance of the universe 

I cry the oceans that Jesus walked upon 

I am the rhyme and the reason 

I understand the mysteries of the words 

I say the words that were never meant to be spoken 

I dream the Purple Mountain's Majesty 

I try to cup the magic of history within my inadequate hands 

I hope that I can read between the lines 

I am the rhyme and the reason

Paper Thin Hearts

This poem is very personal. I wrote it when I was 15 and dealing with issues with my biological mother. This poem is about the issues of dealing with someone struggling with a drug addiction. Sometimes you reach a point where you want to give up and walk away but you have to remember how fragile that person really is.

Powdery thin, soft, translucent skin
Under my trembling fingers as I work fast
To repair all her rips and tears
But her skin gives me paper cuts

I told her once I'd put her back together
If she fell apart
So here I am fullfilling my promises
Mending her skin
Feeling guilty for her sins
Blushing for her in mortification

Glue back the pieces of a picture torn
By fingers that could barely rip the paper
Paper....

Rolled up with herbal escape in the middle
To smoke and drift..drift away
With the vapors that secrete from her tightly drawn lips

Chase those vapors and in doing so
Open...
Open wide sweetie...let it all out
Scream..cry for that precious smoke as it drifts
Across the room and into my mouth

She sat in the corner watching me with such contempt
Silent hate filtering from her gaze
Across the room to me...her savior
Such agony in her beautiful, bloodshot eyes
That I almost felt guilty...
Almost..
Guess I'll get mad instead

Now here I go to her
Doing the forbidden..giving into temptation
Touching her papery thin skin with sharpened nails
Ready to tear her apart, rip her insides out
Only to find...
She turned to dust beneath my touch

Metaphorically Speaking

This poem is about sex and drugs lol...It's dedicated to my older sister because all her candid talks with me about her younger years inspired this.

real.cool.sexy.cool
naked beauty
raw
unkempt
atop my sensual star
reveling in a faerie kingdom of ecstacy
innocuous injections beneath the skin of a passionfruit
that i found in the Paradise of the aerial kingdom
that Jack and I climbed a beanstalk to find
before we fell
real s.l.o.w.l.i.k.e
into the coral reef [in the oceans
that you call your eyes]
real.sexy.cool-like.eyes
that kissed the curves of my naked body
while i spun off into herbal dreams
sunkissed ;; soulful ;; sinfullness
and we exchanged stolen glances
and secret eskimos kisses
from across the v a s t n e s s of vindication
until finally you joined me atop my naked star
where the passionfruit daemons cant get me
and im finally a powerpuff girl

Broken Superman

I wrote this for a friend that was in an unhealthy relationship. She confided in me after she got an abortion so I wrote her a poem to let her know that I understood..

She is a blushing beauty

And he's a reckless warrior

But he's also her Superman

Or at least that's what she likes to pretend

Like Lois Lane she is a writer

But he doesn't waste his time being Clark Kent

He is too busy saving her world

One fruitless lie at a time

And he can't bear to break her

More than she has broken herself

So he stains her lips with his lies

While she stains his pillow with her tears

She is not as stupid as he wants to believe her to be

She is just to weak to be as smart as she is

So she drowns herself in her lovely downer

Because it puts her to sleep

And at least she can be strong in her dreams

But she fears what her Superhero would say

So she hides her habit in all the obvious places

Out of some frightened hope he'll find her secret and save her

But this time in reality

Little does she know he watches her destroy herself

Not quite indifferently

And little does he know she killed the kryptonite babies

Not because she wasn't ready

But because she wants to be his only weakness