My, my, my, X.
Wind-chimes braid themselves
up and down my core,
shivers down my spine, fingers spaced apart.
My center solidifies and my mind melts—
a proper malfunction…
.
Sometimes I wonder if he sees me.
I see him.
No pressure, no law.
I need X for certain things,
he needs me for certain things.
.
It won’t last,
I hold on to the now.
Let go.
Lean…
.
I think we can be good for each other.
I reject the law
that says only permanence has worth.
Connection is enough,
even if it shifts and dissolves.
.
Our fingertips touch—
flashing life, lust, tenderness.
I’ve never seen his eyes before.
I recognize his touch as my own.
I remember the caress of every lover.
.
I don’t know him
But his wild is my wild.
I honor what we are,
without demanding what we are not.
I want.. I don’t receive..
I’m too solid
There’s something I’d..
I can see..
If he falls
Crystal Clear Confusion
The center is a labyrinth.
We close our eyes to seek it
It likes to absorb itself
in hues of the abyss
Our fragments hide and seek
Bend at the pond
That foreign transparent center
Crystal clear as confusion
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
How To Be
you see
i know how to be
courteous,
a beggar;
believer
a star in the night
holding me
By the Door of the Music Room
by the door of the music room
what does one do
when sound hums like prophecy
to the rhythm of one’s soul
spoiling all the way home
anointed with myrrh
a finger on the temple
what does one do
by the door of the music room
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.
The Ground Still Loved Me
I’ve been crying hard.
It’s what I do best.
The ground is loved on by the seeds of clouds.
But I’m fragile,
and I soften in explosion.
When I experience grief,
I face it suddenly.
There is no space
— from Repetitions of Ruin
(incantations from the same wound)
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.
Freegrandmaa 