June 15, 2024

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

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

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.

Diver

The fire is live in me

I see the flames as they shift into you

One more time

The diver of my feelings

The hair on my arms dance for you

We remember

A moon cycle glanced your way

You made promises you kept

How I resent you for that