I crave your influence.

You make me so numb and make me feel more alive than I’ve ever felt. An easy and quick solution for whatever the day had previously challenged me with.


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The Jacket

I’m just a jacket on a coat rack to you. Convenient when you’re cold but I’m not as essential because you’re warm-blooded. So a lot of the time I just hang there like decorations on the holidays, set to catch your attention to the home and look pretty.

How is it that your desire for me is only when you feel the timing suits you?

I know the seasons are changing, but even then there are rooms in buildings that are too cold, the grocery markets have over the top freezer sections, and sometimes the weather can be very unpredictable.

Life is ever-changing. Sometimes its best to be prepared for the worst even if life is going great.

Have you forgotten I’m your jacket. I can keep you warm, dry and safe.

Please don’t forget me at home.

Take me with you to your job, your car and watch you’ll start to notice you’ll need me more than you  thought you did.

The use of me isn’t only during the winter and fall, though that is when I am desired the most.

I am universal.

I am needed and desired always.


I’m Going to Love You for as Long as You Let Me

Loving you was never easy.

When I first realized I loved you I was already trying my hardest to make another guy fall in love with me. That guy was someone whom I thought I really admired and wanted, even thought I needed, until I met you. That week you had just become my best friend and the only person whom I felt most comfortable with. You had won my heart over within a couple of days, weeks and months of us hanging out, while sharing the most unlikely events of our lives. We shared everything that one night, from the time we had stopped talking in high school up until the very moment where we had met up again and decided to chill for the first time in about 4 or 5 years. There was just something about you that made my heart leap for joy and made me feel home. But at the same time I experienced the anxiousness and child like wonder of a school kid surrendering to the embarrasing act of falling in love with it’s crush, apprehensive yet hopeful.

I was always giddy, always being silly around you even though I’m a very serious person in reality. My spirits were always overly intoxicated by the happiness you brought me on a day to day basis. I talked about you non-stop to everyone, even to the guy I ended up trying so hard to date. Everybody knew it, everybody asked me about it, but every time I answered I always denied it. I wasn’t in love with you. You were just my best friend. Or at least I tried to convince myself that I couldn’t be. I was too mature for you, plus I had a boyfriend and I wasn’t going to be the type to break someone’s heart just because someone else caught my eye. That guy whom I was dating didn’t deserve it. I was a loyal person, or at least I tried to be when I was around you.

Of course I would fantasize about how life would be with you and all I ever saw was us having fun, laughing uncontrollably and being the most envied couple because of how affectionate and compatible we are when we’re together. Dating you would be nothing but nights filled with pop punk music and love filled blunts. That’s what I always hoped it would be, but time changes everyone and everything. So daydreaming and fantasizing was just an illusion not a possible reality, or at least I thought.

I never followed my heart. I always felt that I would hurt too many people if I ever displeased them or acted on something that might cause pain or angst of any sort. You taught me how risky and tough it is to follow your heart, but very necessary. Which is why I immediately knew how significant you would be to my being. You made me follow my heart simply because I couldn’t stop loving you. A rebellious act against my psyche. I couldn’t be just your friend. And every time I told you that we were only friends and nothing more, I lied. Deep down I wanted to be your everything and then some. I wanted you to be the person I traveled everywhere with. I wanted to grow old with you. I wanted to have a great life with you, with a big family and lots of pets. I wanted to die happy with you knowing we both were lucky enough to find each other within this never-ending universe; genuinely loving and enjoying each other to the fullest.

Today you are mine; I’m still in love with you and I still want to grow old with you, but things aren’t the same. With every growing relationship, you have your trials and errors, you have your mistakes and accomplishments, and you have your “I won’t give up on you” and your “I can’t do this anymore”. We’ve experienced a great majority of these on different scales within our 3 years of being in a relationship together, yet we’re still here.

I want you my love, for a lifetime and more, but there are events and unfavorable actions that have taken place and continue to take place between you and I that makes it really hard to believe whether or not we’ll last as long as I hoped for when I first fell in love with you. They’re sides to the each of us that we are afraid of and aren’t proud to share. I’m trying my hardest to be a better person for you, but it seems so far that I’m traveling on a one way street and the right turn I’m supposed to take to get back on a normal street, to you, is no where to be found.

Some days I cry to myself and hope for you to change, and some days I give up and admit to myself outloud that there’s no possible way. But even the most stubborn, the ones who aren’t aware of their actions, can change. I’m living proof. So when I sit here and cry, and I start to write about you, I realize how much power you have within yourself to change the way you treat me, our relationship and most importantly yourself. I cry even more because I took the intiative and wanted to change for you so you can love me with ease and grant me forgiveness for all the pain I’ve caused you. When I did, it wasn’t enough, nor was it recognized or praised, or even taken into consideration, how much time, energy, and self love I put into altering my bad habits, actions, and thoughts for us. I wanted to be the best for you because that’s what you deserve especially with all that you’ve been through in your past. Till this day, I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much you really mean to me. Maybe you can say the same about me, that I too, will never know how much I truly mean to you, but the difference between you and I, is my actions are speaking louder than your words.

I don’t want to lose you, so I’ll selfishly stay by your side, quiet and patient, because I know there’s not another being who could love you and take care of you the way I do. I can only stress this enough that I feel broken people need to be loved in a particular type of way that only other broken people can reciprocate.

You aren’t like anyone else. You’re special.

And I’m going to love you for as long as you let me.

Ghost Girl

I have tripped and spiraled into a gap of time where I am non-existent. I can see and interact with the environment around me, but it all seems to lack significance. Ghostly as I am, I attempt to creep into the realm of mortal beings.

“Ghost Girl” ~ Art by @amytheoracle

It simply can’t be—that I only exist in the presence of you.



“Do you love me?”

I catch myself asking myself that everyday and each time I have the same response.

“I know you do,” I whisper to myself.

Then why are you so sad, I thought.

I don’t know why, but no matter how many times you say you love me I have a fearful hunch that you’re just sparing me those words to save me.

Yes, save me.

Save me from what you might question.

Well my sweet, I can start off by saying you save me from the endless amount of tears I would shed if I knew you laid your eyes on someone else, you save me from the broken heart that I would be forced to wear if you ever told me you’ve fallen out of love with me, and you save me from the emptiness that I would bear if you ever left me and never came back. You save me from so much darling.

If I’m honest the reason why I’m sad is because you (it used to be me too) tend to create chaotic situations for us when all I’m trying to do is love you right. We all make mistakes, I get that, but I’m dying here. People make mistakes so that we can learn from them. Its one of our many mechanisms. But people don’t make mistakes just to keep continuing a negative pattern.

Do they?

Regardless, I’m still dying.

I’m dying and all you can do is act like everything is okay and play your video games because you know sooner or later we’ll both calm down and we’ll both continue loving each other regardless of our angst. You’ll speak of sweet nothings, you’ll feed me the idea that I have nothing to worry about and then we’ll end up having sex and the next day we’ll continue like this storm never happened.

I’m dying because I love you so fucking much and I’ve become too sensitive to handle all my karma, all my adult issues and insecurities and the fact that our relationship is a little rocky at the moment. I know in a way my karmic cycle is being shifted and I deserve this internally painful growth but I do know I also deserve love and the joy and happiness that comes along with it.


A Short Story for the Ones Who Suck at Falling in Love

I was terrible at falling in love. Even when I pretended to be perfect at it, deep down inside I always knew I wasn’t cut out for it. I think I truly started to realize this or come to this conclusion when I noticed patterns in my love life falling to facade. I feel like I was always cut short or deprived of the full ride or journey of falling in love. I was always considered “not good enough” or given the excuses “it’s not you, it’s me” or the famous “I’m going through a lot right now in my life and I need to focus on myself at the moment”.

Maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was the fact that that person had a lot going on in their life and they truly couldn’t handle the stress and responsibilities of being in a relationship. Either way I always put my heart and soul in it 100%. Frankly, it didn’t matter who I was dating at the moment.

You see when I dated someone I fell in love quick and hard. Outside appearances and materialistic items didn’t matter to me. So my infamous love life couldn’t have been caused by the fact that the people I’ve dated thought I wasn’t serious enough, wasn’t attracted to them or thought that they didn’t offer me what I needed. It had to be something else. Curse that demonlord. Always giving me the short end of the stick.

I couldn’t be the only one who felt like this. Suddenly Boxcar Racer started echoing through my head. Pretend it’s all okay, that there’s someone out there who feels just like me…. there is.

“Demon lord is that you?” I jokingly panicked. Nope, just my mind using its internal defense mechanism to ease my thoughts and worries.

“Blasphemy,” I whispered to myself under my breath.

Of course there were others who felt my pain and believed they were cursed with the same rotten luck as me. Knowing that always comforted me; to a certain extent that is. Either way something’s got to give.

There’s a light at the end of the tunnel

A few nights ago I tried explaining to someone my internal, spiraling dilemma. It’s something I’m sure lots of people go through, but I for one, like many, haven’t conquered that ground yet. There’s many reasons for topics like these to not be broughten up. It’s extremly awkward and sometimes the advice that is needed or given or the reactions that are projected or needed can’t necessarily help. Sometimes it even makes things worse. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just the way life is, right? 


If so, then I might just go ahead and wave a white flag and surrender.

Because I can’t help myself. 

. . .

To tell you the truth,

I am afraid.

I am afraid that I will never get to enjoy my current happiness.  

I am fucking afraid by the idea that I will never get to sit down with someone and express these fears. 

I am fucking afraid that I will never get to cry to someone, and I mean literally pour my heart out to someone about how scared I am that I can’t be happy… that I won’t let myself be happy.

I just want to tell someone. 

I want to explain to them the pain I internally feel, the ache and choking in my throat as I hold back my tears and my loud cries and weeps.

I want to explain to them the screaming and arguing that takes places within my head because I’m constantly fighting with myself about how I can’t just ease up, let loose, smile and enjoy my life.

I just want to be reassured that I’ll be okay.

I want to be held and told that it’s all in my head and sooner or later those worries, the constant heavy feeling that I don’t deserve to be happy will fade away. 
Please tell me there’s a light at the end of the tunnel…

A short story about one of the reasons why I suck…

I guess one out of the of the many reasons why I suck is I’ve always been the type to hopelessly fall in love. Whether that person is fond of me or not, its all a figment of my imagination or play on my desires. I’m fucking crazy. I fall in love so quickly. I mean it truly does suck. 

Imagine me just minding my own business walking on a sunny day and out of nowhere I see this human being that just radiates and highlights the engaged area around them. 

Then it happens. 

They smile and I fall in love. 

How can something so simple like walking out on a summer day and noticing my surroundings around me land me in a pool of feelings and a lust for love?

Maybe its the fact that my sun sign’s ruling planet is Venus. The planet of love and pleasures. As a Libran and a person who’s particularly interested in astrology, I can’t only excuse my passion for love and romance through the characteristics of a god of a ruling planet, but its definitely a factor intertwined with many others that support that aspect of me. 

Maybe I’m not crazy or maybe it’s not the consequences of being a Libra and I just enjoy the idea, the process and the enactment of falling in love. 

Either way I suck.

Memoirs of a Lustful Girl (Pt. 1)


     It’s the middle of January and I have never felt so helplessly alone. This evening is calm and uneventful, yet he’s the only one creeping into the depths of my mind, like a black cat strolling through the shadows in the alleyways at night. The aches of my loneliness echo throughout my mind and body, craving for his attention. I can’t help the yearning sensation of my feminine blooming flower as I sit and gently touch myself. Vulnerable, I lay in bed, day dreaming about the day he’ll be home to please me repeatedly. If I recall correctly, I get lost in the ecstasy of the slightest touch that involves his warm fingertips and the heavy hands that groped and caressed me every night. How could it be that only his touch and presence alone can arouse me without all the exaggerated sexual pleasures? He had me wrapped around his finger and knew he could have me on all fours if he simply demanded.

     I guess that’s what keeps me waiting in anticipation. The fact that this human being has so much power and control over my physical body and mind, really overwhelms me. The way he would raise my exhausted body up and down, in sync with his when I could no longer perform and ride him continuously, orgasm after orgasm, proved to me how complete we were when intoxicated by each other. He always carried me and wanted more. So strangely attractive that was (still is) for him to keep wanting me when I can last no longer. For him to crave my restless body and still find it just as enticing as it was when I was prepared, horny and thirsty for his sweet, pure white, almost transparent bodily fluid.

     I kept tossing to each side of my bed as I squirmed around with my hands between my legs, applying pressure from my thighs to contain the throbbing of my pussy lips and clitoris. I breathe in and hold my breath to calm my body down so I can relax my muscles and nerves. Breathing out, my mind wanders and I start to think about how the last letter I received from him described the way he built up the courage to behave so seductively. In the letter he explains how he couldn’t contain himself and how he just had to break the rules of our visitation at the facility that he currently resides in. I can’t help but to tune into my reminiscent thought so profoundly that I can almost feel when his hand grazed my soft, perky breasts and pinched at my nipples over the laced, underwire bra I had purposely worn that day. I can feel his eyes as they undressed me as we spoke to each other and I can feel when his thoughts and mind were fucking my brains out as he sat across the small table that divided us. I recall as the visit ended and before I left, he gave me a romantic hug and copped a feel, firmly cupping my pussy from behind. As he released me from his grasp he slid his hand, slightly splitting my lips over my skin tight, black jeans and ran it all the way up my ass, making sure to put pressure on my asshole and cheeks. He gave me a little spanking and he made sure he let it be known that everything he just touched was his and his only. I can’t help but to think about how detailed he gets in his letters, that perversely I start getting wet at the reminiscent thought of reading it. I get a little more soaked at the thought of even reading it again. How easy it was for me to produce such sticky, sweet extract at the mere thought of him.

     I looked frantically to the right of my bed where my medium-sized, fold-able tray or in other words my makeshift end table was located. In pure bliss, I gazed upon the neat stack of envelopes that occupied about one-fourth of the surface of my “nightstand”. About 1 foot away from where I rest my head was the stack of envelopes that carried me and satisfied all my sexual urges over the past few months. Those letters contained some of our most memorable kinky, spontaneous sex adventures and stories. It was one of the many vaults that contained our dirty, little secrets and we had access to these sexual delights not only in our minds and in pictures, but also in writing. Which in my opinion was so dramatically arousing, due to the affectionate effort to illustrate what we want to do to and for each other, but with words. It was the only way I could get off and genuinely pleasure myself when I was alone. Just like how I am tonight.

     Inside my head I was contemplating when would be the appropriate time to unleash all this eagerness towards my inappropriate desires and fantasies. It was the middle of the night and I couldn’t think straight. My conscience kept tugging towards the corner of my mind where nothing but surrendering impurities dwelled. The corner of my mind that housed the kinkiest, most sensual pleasures that you were so accustomed to hearing or seeing on the internet. The difference between this tantric experience and what is provided to you on the web is its tantalizing, surreal sexual bliss. The closeness and delectation were incomparable to the charlatans on your computer screens. This type of sexual fixation was growing and growing and it was soon to become untamable.

     I just couldn’t get it out of my head. Like a fiend I was experiencing withdrawals from my guilty pleasures. I haven’t had a good dicking in a while—I perversely said out loud to myself. I let out a deep sigh of frustration. I turned over onto my stomach and stretched outwardly, kneading my pillows like a kitty preparing for a nap. I lifted my lower back and pointed my ass towards the ceiling, facing the mirror in the opposite direction of my bed. I looked back, only to catch a glimpse of my white, light green trimmed, cherry panties hugging the curves of my soft cheeks in my reflection. Mmmm—I moaned a little to myself. He loved these cherry panties. He always used to dominate me into this position and tie me up just to admire the intimates that clanged onto my body so perfectly. A delectable treat it was for him to undress my feminine physique with his teeth and get right to the juice of my peach.

     So alluring, I can hear his voice in the back of my mind. I can feel the warmth of the breath that fell off his lips onto my skin and I can feel the urge that he has to take complete control over me radiating off his aura. In an instant I had traveled back to the time where I was a slave for him. A perfect, good little girl that submitted to every command.

     “Get on your knees… I said get on your knees,” he purred in my ear. “You’ve been such a good little girl. I think its about time I give you exactly what good girls like you get when they behave.”

     I was caught by the warmth of his breath on my ear, the intensity in his eyes and the way he pressed my body against his. Without a circle to cast, he put me under his spell. I did as I was told and didn’t fight or debate a word.

     “Oh..uh..yes sir,” I nervously said as I stumbled on my words. I slowly lowered my body, lightly grasping onto his shoulders. As I deescalated, I desperately ran my hands down his defined chest and along the sides of his perfectly carved out ribs and hips. My bony knees quivered as they kissed and imprinted onto the brown, memory filled carpet.

     Admiring me from above, he slyly smiled as he paced around me checking out every angle I had to offer. “Such a good girl, I swear…” he praised. With two of his fingers, he swept the hair that was hiding my dark-chocolate, brown eyes and half of my face to the side. When he did that it drove me crazy.

     “Oh my god and those eyes….don’t hide those sweet, innocent eyes from me, doll.” He religiously and infatuatedly implored. I shyly smiled and started to nervously fidget with my fingers. “Are we nervous darling?” He knowingly teased, aware of the abrupt energy shift in the room and my sudden uneasiness. My body language gave it all away about how anxious I was to find out what exactly he wanted to do to me. He could read and see right through me so easily. It was terribly intimidating.

     I curiously lifted my head up a tad bit and peered up at what seemed to be a devilish yet charming smirk that laid upon his androgynous face. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I boldly asked. I wasn’t quite sure that I was prepared for the answer he was going to give me, that almost instantly after I asked him I looked down. Buried behind my thin, at the time raven black hair, I noticed my lip starting to quiver. In hopes that I won’t bleed, I started nibbling on it to keep it still.

     He started to laugh a little to himself. He took a deep breath and reached out with his right hand and lifted my chin up towards him. He gazed into my eyes and sternly replied,”Oh sweetie, you’re going to be getting a mouth full.”

     We continued to lock eyes in complete silence. This went on for about a couple of more seconds and before I could even react he walked off and went to the opposite side of the room. My eyes followed his every move. He was looking for something that seemed to reside on his black bookshelf. I was curious as to what that could possibly be. Could it be possible that he was going to torture me with a horrid object? Maybe something very strangely pleasing? My mind was running wild with all the possibilities. I was afraid but intrigued. I took a deep breath to brace myself for the fear of what the following events might be.  Torture me…with nothing but sexual favors…I hope…—I anxiously mumbled to myself. After a minute or so, I heard him let out a sigh of satisfaction.

     “Here they are!” He keenly said. When he turned around and faced me, he was carrying  black, soft, fuzzy handcuffs. The type you see in kinky porn videos and sex shops. My mouth dropped a little in shock. I was instantly overwhelmed because I have never been handcuffed in any way. I was a good girl so I had no reason to be restrained against my own will, especially not in handcuffs for that matter. He flashed me this devilish look. His intentions were immediately displayed without him even having to say a word. His body language and his eyes were all I needed to see to understand that I was going to become his submissive; whether I had a say in it or not.

     He slowly but surely made his way over to me and started to caress my face. Trailing his index finger around my lips, he passively asks me, “How badly do you want to satisfy me, Amy?” He was already staring carelessly into into my eyes, so I couldn’t hide and look away. Inside my body was already yearning to please him. I think I was more or so intimidated about how I would exactly express that to him. I was a timid girl and expressing my naughty and probably very inappropriate desires out loud would probably sound extremely foreign. Especially coming out of a innocent girl’s mouth like mine. I wasn’t used to these type of questions. Almost as if I was like a virgin to this whole situation and he was stimulating my mind waiting for the perfect moment to penetrate it with his lustful actions, ultimately popping my cherry. Ironic, I know.

     He flashed me his iconic smile and started to slightly project signs that he was growing a little impatient. He was eager and willing. You could read it in his body language as he stood in front of me. “Well are you just going to sit there or are you going to answer me sweetheart?” He questioned.

     I continued to internally panic. I was so unprepared and coy that I was literally drawing a blank. I couldn’t put any words together to express to him exactly what he was doing to me nor was I able to gather any words to express what I could be doing  to him. I began to overthink to myself. Would I be punished if I didn’t respond in the correct way. How dominant was he planning to get with me? Should I be afraid or aroused? 

    “Okay maybe I’m overthinking it,” I unknowingly mumbled, out loud to myself.

     “What was that sweetie?” He curiously asked.

     And in that instant I was suddenly enlightened by my arousal that I threw all caution to the wind and began to behave in a manner that wasn’t familiar to me at all. I leaned forward and grabbed for his waist band that was provided to him by his slim, well fit jeans. He was already bulging out of them projecting to me that he has been waiting for me to relieve him of his sexual frustration. Whether I was going to be a good girl or not was determined by how my body would react to him. If he laid a finger on me in such a way there’s no telling if I would lose control. All I could do in that moment was hope that I can submit to his desires and not displease him.