She Who Lives in My Chest

my heart is selfish
and only wants me

She’s abusive,
intrusive.
She swallows me hidden.

I’m in love with her
I trust her

She forces me,
shoves truth
out from my belly
through my clenched teeth

She makes me throw up,
nice and neat.
She edges me to moonstone tears

Even I am sick of me
and my selfish heart

She allows me to fold
as she soaks into my Viking thighs

I wouldn’t still be alive
without her

June 22 & July 8, 2026

I saw X.

It was tender, satiating for once. The first time we’ve connected that I left feeling… satisfied.

He was in tune with me. He listened to me and gave me what I wanted.

I felt his heart outside of his nervous system. I felt it on his body, tasted it on his skin, and heard it in his voice as he whispered to me.

He feels safe with me.

I spoke his love language as he laid his head on my bosom, and I caressed his head, back, and arms. I soothed him. I’m protective over him beyond myself.

I told him I cared about him and expressed other affections. I kissed his head. He’s my baby.

This time I adored him all the way.

We laughed and teased. I told him I felt safe with him. We held each other’s bodies, pressing skin against skin, rubbing our faces together, biting cheeks. He adores me.

We became yin and yang, and I loved it. Saliva and sweat—I didn’t mind.

I don’t need to know what it is anymore. I’ve worn myself out trying to understand.

I surrender.

He means something to me. What we have is genuine. It’s not some fantasy anymore. It’s real. Out of my head. Real.

I wanted to reassure him. Remind him that he’s special to me.

X is my lover, and I think I need him.

Time will continue, but I’m in a vulnerable place, and I’m no longer embarrassed to admit that I need him.

I needed him yesterday. We fell asleep on the phone.

I feel warm when he calls me his Mulberry.

We talked while I was at work, and I didn’t feel so alone in it all. I feel emotionally and spiritually safe knowing he’s here.

It’s easy to assume—or even wish—for more. Though I don’t think that’s us.

Something about X soothes me like a child checking to make sure their mother is still there, then finding out she is. The relief. The calm that follows.

Maybe I am not as strong as I thought.

This space is good.

I am chaos and loud. I am mad and an exciting time. I make safe spaces for people to exist, and they choose to exist with me.

Get to know someone long enough, and you’ll eventually see a piece of yourself in them.

I want to hold on to X.

I don’t want to let go of what we are.

I just don’t.

Nuzzled in Circles

I made a wish for you
my brown man

ferocious

beastly

Sunset and savory

Made me his baby
Nuzzled in circles under his wing

Where I’d devour his scent

He’d startle                                                                     
with big ole eyes
Consuming me till full

I would never lie to them

I feel safe                                                                      
under his wrath

We made love
he made me laugh

I omitted my heart

Slow burn
late bloomer

He’s impatiently patient
An active volcano

We paired together well

She Will Return

You’ve inflicted a wound
down the length of her spine.
Sabotaging the currents
to maintain her movements
give way to the wind.

With the immense distance it provides,
she will carry on.
Her skin sticks and glows a little,
glistens in the sunlight.

She’ll return
and destroy all that you are,
leaving behind
trails of ash and stains

I Turn Void

Gasping for your air
I turn void
I cave in
Absorbed by your flesh
Seeking words of salvation
a cure to the spell
Fatal devotion
I’ll rage without it
Won’t care about anything else

The One Who Stayed Grounded

He aroused me till numb

My heart sedated by his insanity

Caught me mid-revelation

Reaching for me at the height of his vision

.

I wanted him to come with me

But he wasn’t that type of guy

It pained him to watch me as I’d fly

Still front and center he’d release me wild

He ached to carry me whenever I fell

.

Rubbed me up with aloe vera

And intuitive kisses to heal

Wanted to make it well

Fading as I opened to it

Defeated in the win

So I held him also in sin.

I Try To Unwrite It

Sometimes I reread the poems I wrote for past lovers and feel like… this was too good for them. I try to take it back

Too tender. Too raw. Too sacred.

Bitterness shows up first.

Memory comes next. 

With it the soft ache of truth.

I remember why I wrote it, the little universe we lived in for a while. 

And I remember.

I remember it was theirs. Because a version of me meant it.

Even if they didn’t deserve the whole poem forever.

Some things are real just because they happened.

And some people get lucky enough to be written about.

The love was real, so was the poem.

So I give it back.

Ripe and Mean

When we went without
I forgot my name
Things were not good
We’d be ripe and mean
We’d beg and fight
Skin splitting
Play tug of war with our faces
Growl through negative space
I am awake
I am awake
I am awake
I plead
insanity
I give
him control
Still
painting him in contrast

I Wore You

we had the same conversations like it was yesterday
i wore blue for days and days straight
i wore all my fibers as you
i knew you were blue too
i fasted
i was corrupt
you wouldn’t let my burn touch a thing
you laughed in the face of it