"you are my dolores"

the times i've spent smoking so many cigarettes i could barely stand, watching the smoke curl around my fingers, filling my lungs, filling the air, dissipating to never be seen again, listening to erik satie and watching the leaves move and move and move.

feeling my heart beat, and feeling his heart beat and her heart beat and the smell of roses and incense and sweat and fluttering eyelids and gasping for air between kisses.

a cup of tea and my bed and a book i didn't quite understand and feeling tears dry on my cheeks and the sadness and the loneliness and then, later, the relief-
and more tears.

bathtubs filled with warmth and ecstasy, exploring, closing my eyes and feeling everything.

my youth will be rose scented. soft and tender, sensual, like a peach.

from now on i want nothing but late nights and lace dresses, and pink with a rock&roll edge, pleasure in pain. i want my entire being to reflect my youth and my sexuality and everything tied together by a delicate ribbon (or maybe bound by a spiked collar). i used to want to grow up and to leave but i'll stay. "you are what you love" so here's what i want to be: