They told me to find a body that made sense
but I only found one that confused me more.
In that moment, when the stars and moon hung low,
and the sky was blanketed in deep indigo,
he canceled every other man on our side of the world
and he towered over me like a giant.
A gentle giant with rose colored glasses on,
with the biggest hands out of the world
that would cup me and grasp me, groping roughly with one.
His clammy hands, his hot lips,
his soft skin, his hopeless mind.
All needing justified love and lust
to take him away from pain and
to stop him from hurting himself with glass.
He put me in the hole in his chest,
offering sincerity but it was temporary
and it was to be filled with cement only to
me in and to never let me out.
The memories and the pain of jerking and tugging,
sucking and licking and being forced for the rest.
I never wanted to be treated so roughly,
I never wanted to be fingered so desperately,
I never wanted to be fondled so hard.
I was only fourteen. What was I doing?
But, the illusion of pink, silk, and roses gave me
this vision of lust and how it equated with love
and glitter plus sparkles equal forever.
I was lying to myself and I was telling myself
he was feeding me love and he wasn’t toxic for my soul
and nothing was hurting, nothing was going downhill.
I ran around in circles and tried to make myself dizzy,
my head was so jumbled that I was seeing birds.
I wanted to fly away, to float away, he took me away.
I keep on trying to let him go, but I didn’t know how to go about it.
Half of me has disappeared. My innocence has been stolen.
I lost myself and myself got stuck.
I looked everywhere for a body that made sense.
Where is it?
O thou that after toil and storm
Mayst seem to have reach'd a purer air,
Whose faith has centre everywhere,
Nor cares to fix itself to form,
Leave thou thy sister when she prays,
Her early Heaven, her happy views;
Nor thou with shadow'd hint confuse
A life that leads melodious days.
Her faith thro' form is pure as thine,
Her hands are quicker unto good:
Oh, sacred be the flesh and blood
To which she links a truth divine!
See thou, that countest reason ripe
In holding by the law within,
Thou fail not in a world of sin,
And ev'n for want of such a type.
She drinks from an ancient wellspring
-older than the rocks which cup it.
Deeper her thirst goes
-quenched for a fleeting moment.
A small poem from her heart
-flown from her wetted lips.
She drinks the skies
-the place her poetry finds freedom.
The rain has long finished falling
But the feelings took their time
I've felt a persistent longing
For what's been done for quite sometime
The thunder rumbles distantly
But it echoes like past love
The lightning flashes consistently
But is no longer directly above
The wind has since died down
And my body shakes from the cold
But I still sit on the ground
Waiting for the sun to turn love gold