The Chaos of a Lost Soul

And like a ship at sea, she sails on

even if her insides are screaming

the fabric of her very being protesting violently

against the cold waves of her agony

And like a volcano, she explodes

the destruction of her structure unstoppable

and beautiful

Never ending and hopeless

And like a building, she collapses onto herself

into her bones

a chaotic mess of buried words and secrets

littering the pavement around her

engraving itself into the worlds memory

And like a addict, she screams for more

wanting nothing more but to block out reality

and go to a world where nothing hurts and 

people didn't exist

in a place where it was only she and not 

a him or another her

just she and the ice inside her soul

And like a blistering winter, she blocks out the light

and lets the fingers of numbness rock her body until

she's sleeping

never wishing to awake 

even if in her head

her demons won't let her be

And like a ghost

she's filled with regrets

weighted down by lies

the ashes of bridges burned swirling around her 

with the leaves of Autumn

And like a corpse, she lays still

waiting for the rest of her to rot away

to be forgotten by time

to leave her mind and herself

And like death

she lingers in the air

destructive and silent

and oh so terribly

merciful on its descent 

Fragile Glass

It's difficult trying to keep up the font of being strong and unbeatable when really your nothing more thsn fragile glass, just waiting to shatter. Always look underneath the underneath. For anything can break under the right amount of pressure. And some people have either gone insane or died from that. The cracks in their reflection was far too large and vunerable for attack from their enemies.

Nyemiah Supreme "Real Talk 101"

Enchanted - Taylor Swift (The Vow)

I could make you fall in love with me in five minutes.

By:  http://poetinside.tumblr.com/

Twitter: jasminesealy Jasmine Sealy

You could ask me my name and I could tell you that names don’t matter. That I was named after my grandmother from the moment that pink cross showed up on that white stick until my mother looked at me and somehow underneath the blood and placenta saw a Jasmine and so that is my name but would I have been any different, would we not be having this conversation right now had I been named something else?

You could tell me you think I’m beautiful. And I could tell you that I don’t want to be beautiful. That I shaved off all of my hair in my mother’s kitchen with my brother’s electric razor before getting on a plane to move to the other side of the world. I could ask you what you love most about yourself. I could ask you about vanity. And I could tell you to imagine throwing it away, that one thing, that thing that makes you beautiful.

You could try to kiss me and I could kiss you back. I could kiss you and pull your hair and bite your lips and grind my crotch into yours. I could kiss you like a woman and make you forget about all those girls who came before. I could kiss you and then disappear and leave you less, leave you empty, leave you missing something you never even knew you wanted.

You could fall in love with my tattoos that mean things and the ones that don’t. With my scars and my stories. With the strobe light dancing through the fabric of the best conversation you’ve ever had. With the way I make you feel like the most important person in the room and no one at the same time. With the way I make you think. With the way I make you think about thinking. 

I could make you fall in love with me in five minutes. 

But tomorrow, when you see that I’m just like the rest of them? Tomorrow when I don’t want to be mysterious anymore. Tomorrow when I am jealous and insecure and needy. Tomorrow when I love you back. 

Would you love me tomorrow?

Lenka - "Maybe I Love You"

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