Music Junkie. ((:

The notes etch a voice that whispers to my right ear. Soft, melodic, and just a hint of anguish. I need it, I want it. It lays before my eyes on a clef ready to embrace the sharp e's. I demand to be taken to a world where music is played all the time and everyone smiles at the tunes emanating from every crevice and crack. I decided to tune higher and reach the notes with ease. Each note flawlessly hit. No hesitation, no holding back. Ready for the sharp e's I begin my climb. No turning back, its already too late. Like a needle piercing the skin the sharp e hit my heart in no time. Sending me soaring, darting in every direction. Soon I evaporate into the music and begin my fall back down. But this time, when I'm back down, I can't get back up. There is no turning back from here, this is the end.

Death of a Stranger.

A hopeless whim, a serene chill.
A smile in the dark is unseen.
Stealthily slinking along
A wonderful feeling.

Thunder crashes above
Lightning enlightens the sky.
Tears fall down her cheeks,
Blushing unseen from being sly.

She dreams of the pain
Reminisces on the strife
She touches the metal soon to be stained
A new end to life.

Behind him is a shadow
Slinking, stealthily along
It glimmers in the night
And turns into a song.

A melody so sharp they cut the skin
So in tune with those who handle.
Emanates, echoing like the heat of a flame.
Life ending, turning the heat into a cold candle.

SaCred Memories of AnotheR paSt

I have an 'x' over my heart and fat and ugly labeled in my skin. I have tiny tears all over my body from the stereotypes and torture. La torturia says Shakira. Each one tells a story. Tattoos of a different color. The need of more tattoos is inevitable. Overpowering, really. Not a thing to hold me back from achieving the ultimate goal. Gettting more tattoos has been with me since I was young. I always wanted tattoos, something perfect. I sketched and created each tattoo uniquely for my body where only the lies, rather than beauty, were skin deep. They showed who I really was, or whatever I was during that period of time. Some tattoos describing how I fel currently. I'm not afraid to get more tattoos. But of the addiction of getting inked up and scarred up. But that's all it is after a while. A once colorful and unique scar but more of a memory.

Soft Musings.

Our time is now,
Our time is this.
Strongest love,
Sealed with a kiss.

You hold me in tight,
Caress my cheek with your hand.
You make me feel wanted,
By your side is where ill stand.

A dark angel
I've called you once before.
My guardian angel
Mine forevermore

You kiss my forehead so lightly
Making me reminisce
Ill never be able to forget
Our first kiss.

I've drawn on and on
When really I'm at my end.
These are soft musings
Of a girl missing her boyfriend.

My Dark Angel.

A smile, a dark angel,
He comes near, I breathe him in.
The scent so enticing, so great,
Never did I realize new begininngs.

Begin again
That's what I'm doing.
He smiles, I grin,
Blushes on my cheeks show me the begininng.

His embrace so warm,
So strong but weak with me.
So soft but yet so strong
Caress me my love.

Kisses so sweet
Soft like dripping honey.
Sting my heart like a bee,
I hope you're falling for me.

I'm dreaming of dreams,
I'm falling again.
This is a very happy ending
My darling you are mine.

I see that smile
So soft with me
So strong with others
You are the strength I've been looking for.

One more time were together,
We will find ourselves anew
I can't wait to see us in
A plenty of years.

You are mine as of now,
As I am yours.
Please protect me, baby,
For I would protect you.

Soft whispers
In my ear,
All the things I want to hear,
Respect is all I see.

Maybe that's why
You felt upset
About him ruining me
But it feels great.

A better feeling
Than my high
Let's fly to the
Big bright sky.

As I am yours
You are mine.
You are my angel
Gaurdian angel at that.

I can see my gaurdian angel,
My dear my love.
My gaurdian angel
My gaurdian angel is you.

More Than A Being.

As a rose blooms and becomes ripe, your faces turns a light crimson color. Its not times like this where I fall, the rich blue or your virtue's valor. Amazing you are as our hands are one, how my heart skips a beat. A melody interrupted by a first kiss love. You are not what you seem, the perfectest perfect in my world. Help me from my tunnel of sorrow, from my well of doubt and my sulking corner. Don't ever question this my rose, blossom and be something more than just a rose, be beautiful. <3

Everyone Calls Me Crazy.

Just a name but yet so much more. Crazy. That's what they call me. But, yet, they still don't know or understand. They look over the facts and replace them with their own twisted thoughts and plans. They don't hear me. They don't see me. They DON'T understand me. I've been told my whole life how useless, pathetic, and wrong I am. How ill never succeed and never be anything. Well, I'm out to prove them wrong. I'm more than they see. I notice a glimmer of distraction in their eyes. They don't ever notice the crazy standing in front of them. Like a mirror but yet its multiplied 1000 times until no more crazy is left to give. They taunt me with their words and haunt me with their thoughts. They see only the surface of who I am. They only see where I am at this point. But, hey, they call me crazy. I like the name. At least I am something.

The Way You Are.

Early morning breaks. You are resting for a long day ahead. I am awake, as usual. When your awake we smile, we laugh, we cry, we are one. We are always apart regardless if were together. Your touch seems awkward, hesitant. You smile seems broken, more of a smirk. You have an expression that could break glass. You scream and shake your fists. You get irritated easily your smirk now a frown. I fear this. I fear my car will break down on this road. You have turns and twists that I'm not familiar with. A distraction makes me fall weak. I am tossed and turned upside down. I've flipped my car on this ride I thought would be easy sailing. I have failed to make it to your softer side. You aren't what I assumed in the beginning. Your a stranger that I don't recognize anymore, your faces are unfamiliar to me... you aren't what I assumed. You aren't what I thought was going to be my escape. But, you've turned into how my other roads have been. Long, twisted and leaving me broken and in a mangled heap. The clouds fall over me and I fail to be all I can. I prefer to die than stay here. The thunder echoes my heartbeat. My heart beats one last time and I realise all along you were always this way. This is who you are.

Its The Lullaby

A sweet melody. A soft tone. A roughed up edge but bright as star shine. The notes are so sharp they leave that tasty crimson color along the clef. The lines are like walls they bring in the tempo, they set the mood, notes told to hit where. Notes that no longer are soft. They get heavier and choppier. Soon enough the whole piece is a bunch of lines and circles and accent marks. Nothing makes sense. The notes run together there is no beat. The steady beat in the background continues to fade to nothing. Soon there is silence. Nothing but utter silence. A whisper echoes through the crowd. Amongst these notes are hidden words. Each note a letter expressing something more. A word or a phrase that if played in one way could mean two different things if not placed correctly. The musician is who controls his movements but fails to overcome the obstacles ahead. He drops his instrument and begins a new stretch. A new instrument a new sheet of music. The lines flow together and come together in the right places. The tempo set. The mood is in place. The orchestra starts singing and the heavens open above to welcome the music, the whispers, the forgotten notes, the meaningful accents, and most of all, after the show is over all that is left is the lullaby in which the musician once played. The lullaby of life.

Constant musings of a Wretched Soul

I never used to want someone the way I wanted him but its more or less a struggle each day. A struggle to be seen against his long nights away and his recent website visits. He makes out to be the sweetest guy, but, just as I suspected he's like the rest. He doesn't feel like I feel. He doesn't see things the way I do. He looks past the little things. Abusive without being abusive. Abusive without trying to be. The abuse is self inflicted but nonetheless still from him. He sees past the hurt and ignores the hidden meaning behind "I'm fine." He seems to believe he is completely in the right and he is completely in the wrong. I understand somethings just happen and they are mistakes but the harm that's self inflicted has more meaning than the I'm sorries and the I love yous. Sometimes all you have left is those scars to remind you of what you don't want or what you don't need. Sometimes they tell more stories than the words uttered in conversation.