Last night, I had my earlobes pierced.
Prior, I had two piercings on my ears.

One on either side from my childhood,
I can only faintly recall the momentary ache,
not what came after

mom took me,
as she had before,

the outcome will be worth it, she’d explained
Bear the pain,
it only lasts a short while.
It won’t be long 'till the stinging subsides,
and all that will be left,
is a place you can adorn
with glittering gold and shimmering silver
and not-so-witty anecdotes and pretty metaphors,

So,
I let myself be swept in her pace again,
Two new wounds to be embellished.

One,
two,

Perhaps, I’ve regressed
but it hurts more than it did before.

To call you Love
would be an understatement.

You are a brand new dictionary
brought into the world of an overly confident writer
to humble herself.
You’ve redefined all of the words
I thought I knew the meanings of.
Now— all that I’ve written and will write
cease to be enough.

You are a revolutionary interpreter,
decoding words with the slightest of your touch.
“Trust”, a foreign concept to me,
has now become tangible—
your hands are trust.
Comfort has become your arms.
Warmth, your embrace.
And beauty, supposedly subjective,
has turned apparent, obvious
in every curve and softness of your face,

To call you Love
would be an understatement.
You are more than Love—
You are as you are.

She controls her laughter,
lets it slip from the edge of her mouth,
the corners of her lips lift ever so slightly,
then, she makes a sound,
seamlessly, her fingers graze my thighs,
smoothly, her eyes meet mine,
and in her eyes, I see my reflection—
aflame, abashed, and fiery,

She is the answer I’ve scoured the world for,
and yet, she, herself, remains a mystery,

Ah, I see,
She controls her laughter
as easily as she controls me.

still, I remember her wrapped in sheets
white, will not, could not mistake it
her hands beckoned me to come forward
she seemed proud of her nightly conquest
she wanted me to look
peel my eyelids open
no, she wanted me to stare
down on what she has ensnared
there in her bed,
laid a man revolting,
he did not seem
like a man, rather a demon disguised,
sheets though white could not hide

still, I recall her
smiling triumphantly
looking down proudly on her catch
of all the prey she has caught
this one will be her downfall

it feels like i am dreaming
even in waking life—
to long for feelings I’ve never felt
to miss a presence I’ve never met
to relive a memory I’ve never had
it feels strange to miss things
that have never happened
to wish to come back to a time
that has never occurred
to once again be the person
I never was
to revisit a place
I’ve never been

Indeed, it feels strange
to want all that
I’ve had only in my dreams.

only the good die young
the wretched stretch and fold
gray then mold
all the sinners inevitably grow old
if this is truly so,
then afterlife’s keeper must be
cruel and cold
treating life as a commodity only
while it sweats gold
of such saying, I’ve been told
and retold
life for the good runs so quickly
it slips your hold

if all good things must come to an end
then,
I shall live forever.

I’ll keep you in my hands
until you bubble up and fade away
I know that something as
precious you
won’t stay
long enough for me to begin to hate
the clock is ticking,
I know that Time will not wait
for the two of us,
not for me,
not for you,
not for a couple of misfits
of has been’s and too late’s

so I’ll keep you in my arms,
and hold on to you, fiercely,
gently,
I will keep you safe.
I know I come off as a coward,
I admit that I am not brave
still,
I will toughen up,
every hardship I will face.

For you, 

whom I love dearly,
no danger is too great.

she tells me
she’s in love,
all the time.

all with different guys,
all with different lies,
all the while,
the same shine in her eyes.

she says she’s in love,
and her love is kind—
though it is anything but.
i’ve seen the havoc it leaves behind.

she calls it love,
because she would
lose herself
if he left—
she could care less
for her kids
that would weep,
no,

their tears,
they could keep.

they were mistakes
she shouldn’t have made.
those children aren’t love
but the price she has paid.

my mother tells me she’s in love
one too many times.

i’d love to see her eyes
shine the same way
when she tells me,
she loves me.
the kind of love
a mother
provides.

I love you
only in ways
I am allowed to.

I admire you
only from afar,
where I cannot touch you.

I dream of you
only in the deepest of nights,
an unconscious rendezvous.

I wish for you
only in silence,
not one desire, untrue.

I love you
only in the dark,
‘cause under the sunlight,
I’d be reminded of your
watermark—

you are not mine,
though I am yours.

I love you
alone
it is the only love
I’ve ever known.

short and contained moans
fill my ears—
i think of every gasp
as “i love you’s”
i know i would never hear

        hot and sweaty hands
        grasp my thighs—
        i think of every touch
        as promises
        i know you will let die

                strong and desperate hips
                ****** against my own—
                i think of every action
                as “i’ll miss you's”
                i know you’ll never think
                when you are alone.

        long and tired legs
        entangle with mine—
        i think of this finality
        as a self note
        to make this the last time.

cold and distant nothingness
fil the space beside me—
i try to think nothing of this,
i would only be,
once again,
lonely.