Fiction has nothing on you, pretty, dirty girl. In fact, nobody does.

The universe envied you. For they couldn't guide me the way the freckles scattered across your back do.

Stars glare down at us as I trail my fingers down each of those dusky dots; using them as a map

that guides me home. If only they knew,

When I think of Home, I think of you.

– I was lost but now I'm found.

I want out of this maze I've trapped myself in.

I want out of you.

Your smiles chafe me,

your frustrating heart slows mine down

to the point where I'm sure it too,

believes it's dead and every time

I hear you apologize

because you can't

love me,

I'm quite sure my skin scabs.

Lick me, you breathe and you beg, your fingers restless against cold sheets that warm under the fire your body starts.

And when my mouth is kissing not your lips above but the ones between your thighs, your legs will split apart and your moans will become music I endeavor to hear over and over again, your cries rising like breathless and needy crescendos.

That's when I'll pull you in, that's when I'll take all you have to give. That's when my own fire will rise and my flames will burn brighter against our skin, against the passion you've unleashed inside me without knowing how you did so.

Dear Penny,

I've dreamt about you for three days, a fact I'm guilt ridden over considering I've spent those three days in a home that isn't my own and warming a bed that's much of the same.

In each dream you come back wearing your smile, your curls and your perfume that reminds me of summer rain, gentle sex and roses.

In each dream you seek me out, draw me in and then pull me under with the brutality of a person skilled in the art of heartbreak.

Yet, despite knowing the pain I'll endure, I take your hand, for you are life among death, the light to vanish the dark; the balm to ease to my tortured soul.

Dear Penny, I've realized what I was lacking in my life. It wasn't anything one can purchase at a store–

Wait, scratch that.

I've just doubly realized that in this case what I wanted did, in fact, come from a store; a little thrift shop off central on a particularly damned day, might I add. Inside this shop I found what I'd been missing for so long: the match to spark the flame onto my kerosene– a muse, Penny.

And by that, I mean you.

(( Coming soon))

Yesterday was one year and five months.

I can't tell you how many days

because I lost count.

I can tell you that the need is always there like a nagging poke at the back of my mind but for one year and five months I had been able to ignore it. I had been able to push it aside.

But yesterday was different.

Don't ask me why because in all honesty I wouldn't be able to tell you.

It's hard enough for me to understand even after so many years of battling my bipolar disorder and depression.

One year and five months went down the drain... literally as I watched the blood go down the drain right after it.

Yesterday, it felt good to feel numb after letting my addiction take over.

Yesterday, I knew that today would be a numbing, draining day with my thoughts and guilt. I knew that the need would once again become a nagging poke because I couldn't let it come to the forefront of my mind again.

I was right.

Yeterday was one of the worse days I've had in a long time.

I wouldn't be able to tell you why and what triggered it because I don't know.

What I can tell you is that today is

Day One...

Room full of people. Mouths moving. Scenes fast forwarding. Alone.

Smiles everywhere. Mouths moving more. Scenes changing slowly. Feeling nothing but alone.

Loving eyes staring. His beautiful mouth moving. Holding tight. Alone.

Scratching at chest. Pounding at head. Demanding to not feel alone.

Beautiful eyes staring. Little hands holding tight. Little mouths moving. Desperate to not feel alone.

Like a skydiver whose

parachute failed to open

or an astronaut whose

rocket never made

it into space,

my dreams had been

painfully broken

and a tragic ending

was mine to embrace.

At that moment not one

single word was spoken

nor did any tears of despair

stream down my face.

I took with me only

rejection as a token

and for days stared

disconsolately at the

rose she refused to take.

How do you word something that you feel every minute of every day? How do you word something that you have written about for years? The words keep repeating just like the war in your head. You've been strong. Held your head high and never let that war affect you like you did before. But you feel that break down coming. It's getting harder to keep a smile on your face. It's getting harder to breath and that pounding in your head is louder than it was yesterday. You feel yourself slowly start losing that war and tears start falling down. It's not a choice to give up. It's not possible. You have two little hearts depending on you so you wipe the tears away. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Open your eyes and keep fighting.

It's only pain I can control.

Telling myself to calm down over and over again doesn't work.

Breathing seems possible afterwards.

The shame and pain appears when he looks into my eyes as he kisses my scars.

It becomes unbearable I hear "Mommy, are you okay?" "I kiss it better" and see all the love in their eyes.

So, I fight for them. Only them.

Maybe, just maybe later I can finally fight for myself.