Cool autumn air pours through the sunroof as leaves trickle onto the windshield.

Pink silk ribbons fall from the ends of brown plaits and flutter onto the rubber car mats.

Lips press against flushed cheeks and open to unveil a rosy, begrimed demon.

It immediately curses it’s den upon entrance, whispering lies of amity and tenderness.

Gluttonous claws entwine themselves in the crown, forcing sovereignty to submission.

The throne falls, bowing to the fantasies of mankind.

The chilly air swirls the brown fallen fields of monarchy around the beast’s newly erect tower.

It collapses under the ecstasy of domination.

The crown rises to power once again, but shall never reclaim its jewels.

I'm a slut.

The only sexual actions I've performed have been out of fear instead of desire

But you're right.

I'm a slut.

I'm a slut because I'm happily in a stable relationship;

However I hold the hands of other guys and am "overly" touchy

Therefore, I'm a slut.

Even though my significant other doesn't mind as he knows I require constant affection that he cannot always provide to satisfy my mental instabilities.

I'm a slut.

I'm a slut because I do the same things with those of the opposite sex that I would with women.

I'm a slut because I've only been sexually attracted to one person in my entire life.

I'm a slut because I plan on staying a virgin until my wedding night.

I'm a slut.

And I'm proud to be one.

I know there's a God

Because without divine intervention, you wouldn't be able to handle me most days.

I know there's a God

Because you reintroduced me to Him during my lowest point in life, restoring my faith in both He and myself.

I know there's a God

Because without conviction, I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of you.

I know there's a God

Because I no longer cry when you touch my knee or kiss my neck.

I know there's a God

Because you wouldn't laugh at my terrible puns unless a greater being forced you to do so.

I know there's a God

Because you are an angel.

I know there's a God

Because you always know the words to say when I'm so depressed I can't get out of bed.

I know there's a God

Because I no longer go a day without genuinely smiling at least once.

I know there's a God

Because He led me to you.

I trek through Hell to find you.

I tickle the flames and hum wistfully against a throng of shrieks

Simply to realize the beauty of your existence,

The power of your voice,

The love in your heart,

And the strength of your mind.

I trek through Hell to find you.

I sing gracefully to Cerberus and dance through the jealous attacks of lost souls

Simply to earn your favor

And know that you and I are one.

As noses drip and eyes water against the wispy winter wind,

Childhood wishes flurry through the air

Collecting in white clusters against wool sweaters and cotton scarves.

Fallen angels join holiday cheer,

Purifying themselves with the innocence of children's laughter.

Lost mittens find shelter in abysmal snow mounds

While the abandoned owners seek warmth by entwining with the hands of lovers and friends.

After the unhinging of neighborhood doors, smiling faces greet their audience with requests for figgy pudding in unison.

Holly hovers over doorsteps.

Garland trims white windows.

Trees sacrifice their lives to wake adolescents with excitement on Christmas Day.

Spirited songs create friendship within strangers

And kindness unites the world in a spirit of giving.

Infatuation harbors in superficiality.

Their love was never ophthalmic.

When their eyes met, his cuteness Came more from vulnerability than outer appearance.

Her laughter and the loud voice echoing from her chapped lips

Led him to love her.

His glasses only drew a minor amount of attention

From the acne scars overcoming his blotchy red cheeks.

She smiled with closed lips to hide the separation

Between her yellow-tinted teeth.

His stomach hung over jeans and their first friendly embrace

Damped her shirt with his perspiration.

The button of her orange and plaid flannel

Refused to kiss its mate

And her tattered brown hair hid the choking collar.

An amateur artist, she singled out every flaw in her wavering voice

While he showered her with compliments following each performance.

As the church preacher encouraged the congregation to join hands

Their fingers intwined and both sweaty palms,

His warm, hers cold, refused to separate

Despite the minister granting permission to do so.

He proclaimed affections stronger than a simple crush;

She loved him too.

Neither boy not girl gifted the universe with beauty

But their minds painted pictures of peace and hope

Across the earth's dying landscapes of sorrow and solitude.

Their passions for astronomy, nature, literature, life, and love

Poured from their lips, gliding gracefully off of each eloquent tongue.

Time tore them apart

But strengthened their affections.

Her teeth drifted farther from one another, but whitened

With every kind word associated with his name.

His face cleared as she trusted him with her worries

And he accepted her internal faults.

Age altered their appearances and demeanors.

They grew as one, while secluded from each other's lives.

Soul mates spiraling down the same confusing path of adulthood,

Their beauty intertwined to create

A single magnificent representation of trust, faith, and love.

Upon this revelation their beauty blossoms

Distributing seeds of envy within the heart of every human life

While they smile and laugh through every treacherous experience

Bound together by the hands of fate and an envelopment of love.

Wings wide and sharp

Black like the night

Always soaring gracefully past the envies of commoners

For she is queen.

Her light shining on the undeserving faces of humanity blesses each one with an intoxication of passion.

As she glistens and glows against the flaming morning star, the earth proclaims its gratitude for her glorious existence.

Her beauty shines through the winds of any storm, as her mind creates them.

She paints pictures of love, laughter, and beauty with every word that falls from her graceful tongue.

Colors of acuity and artistry flow in her stride, and the grass, birds, every living thing bows to her beauty

For she is an unattainable flower

Strongly rooted in the earth.

A goddess.

Strawberry blonde hair brushes against my shoulder of solitude as arms, strangers to the sun, envelop mine in comfort.

Heavy breathing, teeth chattering, muscles tensing: not as a result of intimacy, but anxiety.

And his warm fingers brush through my hair softly ensuring me that it'll be okay.

His freckles congregate into a circle on his rosy cheeks as he smiles and illuminates the world with his rare sparks of joy.

The hatred directed towards him that encourages his abandonment of will to exist, comes only from his monstrous mind, for he's the only one oblivious of his true worth.

Complaints flood from his peachy lips: all valid, yet all inducing guilt and reinforcing self-hatred, which never should have eased its way into his pure heart.

Making him smile and laugh turns every depressing day into a success, overpowering life's turmoils.

Listening to songs that inspire his contentment reveals his vulnerability

and beauty.

He doesn't use the word "love" truthfully, because it's a lie;

However, when it makes it's way through my teeth, they do not deceive their audience.

For my precious friend and comforter is loved by many, by all,

And by me.

A pure white smile,

Matching the daisies

Carefully intwined between Effortlessly beautiful locks of her silky hair,

Illuminates the dark desires of humanities.

Her laughter cradles the moon

Into a sorrow-free slumber

And lifts the sun above mountains

To smile sweetly

against the dew-sprinkled hair of the earth.

She gives.

Her mind, words, and time comforts broken spirits

While hers buries itself under a false face of contentment.

Her vulnerable heart,

Bound by fear and solitude,

Hides behind sarcasm

To convince its audience of her lack of interest.

Despite the never-ending beauty Encompassing every fiber of her existence

Tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis, and rain propel through the gardens of her mind

Uprooting each innocent sprout.

And she grows,

Reseeding her confidence and integrity

Blossoming in strength and independence

Flourishing in the rubble of her mind, relationships, and home.

Each raging storm seeking after her soul,

Creating deeper valleys and increasing

the height of each mountain she treks,

Falls to her face in vain

As she skips through prosperous meadows

And wakes the sun to a new day.

Grey metal covers the exterior of the old trailer.

Hanging off the white porch, a rebel flag flies proudly in the cool summer breeze.

In the small yard, a brown wooden well homes plastic flowers.

Grounded beside of it sits a blue birdbath molded with the picture of a squirrel climbing up the side.

Two pine trees lean against the neighbor's fence to the right of the home and drop miniature pine cones against the tin roof.

Inside, the kitchen houses a single cactus along with a trailing vine spreading from the top of the curio cabinet, to the edge of a picture frame pinned against the wall.

Cigarette smoke fogs each room of the house from the pink bathroom, to the safari-themed guest bedroom.

On the burgundy couch sits a vivacious woman.

Her short white hair curls against her face, tapping the bright red glasses frames resting on her nose as she inhales through the white cylinder of nicotine and shortened breaths.

Beside her in a child-sized desk painted solely in primary colors and etched in the stencil of a star carved on the back rest, a little girl with brown braids and gaped front teeth colors while blue creatures in white hats flash across the television as they flee from an orange feline.

She doesn't know that in January of her tenth year, those memories will dissolve.

She'll sing "Handful of Weeds" at the funeral and cry when someone purchases the shelter that she called home.

The pine trees will bow to the roaring screams of a metal blade.

An orange and brown trailer will sit in front of the grey one.

Eventually, everything will disappear.

A bare plot will remain, leaving only the recollections of neighbors to pain the picture of previous residents.

She'll find seven pine cones in the yard on July 9th of 2013 and she'll cry.

She'll pass a smoker on the street, catch the scent of nostalgia, and she'll cry.

When the lights go out during a thunder storm, she'll cry because for the first nine years of her life, she never slept alone.

She'll cry.

But she won't be alone.

And when she feels the pressures of adulthood crashing down, she'll get homesick.

So she'll close her eyes and remember the shabby little trailer that educated her about self-defense, forgiveness, and love.

And there, she'll find peace.