My life is me, and i am clean

My Day

Is the moon cool,

like frozen cheese.

It must have some heat.

Because the lamp lights I touch

they burn me everywhere.

Like a love that I start,

and forget to end.

When love knocks,

I have already answered,

When the sky bleeds.

I’ll already be dead.

This is a poem I wrote a long time ago. I just thought that those still following would like to see ware I have come from. I am still a writer I won’t let people hurt me and allow my talent to drift away. I may not be the girl that you want to be your wife, but god dame it if you wont remember my spunk, my laugh, my essence, and lastly my poetry so you can lose me in the translation as much as you will but for every boy that has left me, remember you did just that leave me while I became stronger and better for the next.

My skin, my life

My skin is clean. My hair is a mess, and I kind of like the way I’m living my life. It’s not so much care free, because I reap the product of what I do. If I want to party on a Thursday and sleep in someone’ else bed I will do it. But what I wont do is allow someone to make me feel like they have feelings for me and leave me in the street alone and afraid. So when you ask what I want to do. Ill have an answer, when you ask if I love you; ill say it depends on which you you’re talking about. My skin is radiant, my heart beats every hour of the day, and when I open my eyes I see the wonderful life I live, and if your in it and were happy that will be because I made it so.