Its May Again.

Dear God, 

I’ve been told,  

that if I’m sad,  

You can make me happy.  

But I’ve been in pain,  

almost every day.  

It all started 

when Dad went away.  

All kinds of people said that You took him,  

and that I shouldn't worry or cry.  

But you know what? 

I don’t care what they say,  

because they have not the slightest idea of what’s in my heart.  

All I know is that my Dad being gone is tearing me apart.  

You see, truth is, I miss him so much,

but as long as he is spending time with you, 

I think it kinda makes it better for me. 

Just before I go, I have one request. 

Tell me how mum does it. 

Tell me how she has managed to keep her cool all this while. 

You see I have poetry, I have dance, 

all these I can use to vent out unspeakable sentiments- 

all I’ll need is my journal and pen. 

But mum, 

she has nothing. 

No one to hug her. 

No one to make her feel safe. 

I try to make her feel special, 

but at times that’s not like having someone around. 

So this time, don’t concentrate on these tears here that are streaming down my cheeks as I type this... 

This time round, I'd love it if You’d make her happy. 

Make her smile. 

Tell her that her kids love her, and tell her that I’ll make sure we have made 1,000,000 more sweet memories before she meets Dad.

Feelings 2012 (by Dark Angel on Monday, 9th January 2012 at 1958 Hrs).

Smiling, you pull me and

my bundled blanket

close, running your hands

everywhere at once

and not thinking

to take your own clothes off

till I remind you with a

sweet tug at your heavy belt.

This is the way

every women wants to be touched,

a smiling man

with gentle skin, close.

Every inch of my body

reacts to your finger tips,

I can feel it blushing

with pure excitement

as you look at me with

such adoration,

lust dripping off your lips

making me feel entirely too accepted

and I want those magic hands

to touch all the secret parts of me,

the parts know one knows.

We lay here with our thighs

rubbing against each other

and our skin gets sticky,

in this sweet, skanky, simple embrace

that's not quite love,

not quite pleasure,

just a nice mixture of both.