Through

It's not when my mouth is going 100 mph 

And my eyes are running like faucets 

And the cliche Angels and Demons are racing the Indy 500 in my head 

That you should be worried if we're through.

It's when my heart and brain are finally are on speaking terms

And your voice feels like a sword in my ear. 

When the hardness that lives in the center of me has locked you inside it

And I simply have nothing more to say to you

That means you're screwed.

Because that is when I'm completely finished.

I never thought the day would come when we were just done.  

Where I would feel nothing in my bones for you at all.  

No more waiting for you to wake up and realize you miss me.

No more hoping you'll call. 

I just started living again.

Not everyone's kiss means the same thing.

Temporary feelings and fucking around

Create permanent memories and hurtful scars;

Remember that.

Sometimes the past is your teacher

And other times, regret is.

Come on over and suck on my last straw,

I dare you.

-Cynicallovebird

Lust

I remember the first time I fell in love with sexuality.
I've been high off it ever since.
They carry it so casually;
As if you all have no clue my legs are threatening to give out beneath me.
I think that is what makes me so giddy.
That you have no idea how gorgeous you really are.
You are oblivious to what a girl would give to live wrapped in your eyes for just a day.
And the desire....

It's relentless.

My hands are on fire.
They ache terribly to reach out and touch
the stranger I've fallen deeply in love with.
My feet are planted firmly to the ground
And silently chastising the lesser of my being that aches to wrap myself around you.
I respect all that you are too much to pout or grovel or beg;
but to say that I was just as composed on the inside would be a flat out lie.

My heart is a graveyard.
Everything is buried in there as deeply and repressed as possible,
But when they talk about love,
I swear I feel them scratching at the back of my brain
Trying to make room for you.

I question.
I over think.
I insert fear into things that never carried any danger to begin with.
I leap off of sky scrapers built with my own mind.
Maybe this is nothing.
But what if it's everything?

So here I remain.
Planted.
Silently, painfully
Admiring the art of you, 

The stranger in the Hall.