Her eyes are small bite pieces of chocolate and I want to call her eye candy but I have stopped objectifying women because I found a woman who is sweet as she is strong.
She grazes my earlobe back and forth until I smile. We are in her bed, tired from lovemaking, happy from lovemaking, indulgent from lovemaking.
Her forehead is touching my cheekbone and her legs have tangled my leg and I hope they stay that way forever.
Her cream colored blanket keeps us warm and secure from the bitter cold of a December Sunday.
She traces her thumb over my lower lip and I tremble with satisfaction. Her hand slips under the blanket and inside my black slacks. She grabs a hold of my penis.
She pushes my head toward her face so that my eyes lock on to her eyes. Those small bite pieces of chocolate melting my soul, making me quiver a pleasure that is immeasurable and nuanced.
my sister thought my mother
had died on her lap.
she walked to the bathroom
inside that depthless hospital hotel.
the putrid smell of life and death
all through-out this concrete heaven
at the tender age of forty-four;
my mothers bones would
carry no more weight.
her gentle heart,
her forgiving mind,
her words so strong
they are forced out
by constricted wind-pipes
and angry words
i glanced down at the cot, where my mommy died
making contact with my mother's pale-blue eyes
she looked at me with the most helpless,
childish face I've ever seen. as if to say:
"he isn't here.. where is he...
where could he be?"
she lived thirty more minutes.
he arrived a few hours later, asking:
"how's she doin'?"
never take for granted,
someone's borrowed time.
hard to place this constant ire rising from ashes of a fire not quite, yet felt
stir into that melting pot the sum of miscellany unknowns
all wrought from the unsweet gifts of quotidian sighs
no need to wrap the present, baby, for it's already here
twinkling in the birth of every moment
we hardly know it nor acknowledge
so busy wrenching pain from secret places the darkness loves to keep
yesterday brought unsought smiles of outer space dust
then space in pushed into the blue spit bubble of crayfish folly
and fear frozen into place on cauldroned cheeks
as tendons pulled fury tight on a cocky bounty's cry
I want to carry that sweet loading joy
which scorches my receptiveness in astringent non reciprocation
I die to please that spangled energy so much
which holds back its cagey kernel, far from my prying hands
I kneel to take in out of the blue blessings
which fall slapdash on this preoccupied trajectory, forever waiting in sozzled hope
I take the package you flash and cast heavy
which leave sweltering whiplines across my insides
all fine, all just a fine melange
beneath your magic fontanelle lies a sunken cache
there are painfully few privy to that miracle
I live in hope of neither looping nor taking
but just to be happy to bear witness to the shiny array of your gem stock
you are like none other, inimitable and hard gemstone (inside)
a mix of purity stirred in crazy, along with star shine and fire sparks
my angel with honey eyes
Nothing to prove, time slowly crawling into my veins,
My lips touch the smoke exiting my mouth,
Morning dew you are I see, Wondering just what is inside of me,
We can joke now about last night...it's our job;
Can you feel it?
Wave goodbye for the night never knows if it lives only once.
Can you see her? Pale perfection, nothing more.
It's all coming back later, so don't you worry about little insignificances and mistakes you made.
You haven't made any mistakes this far;
Can you feel it?
Why don't you show me the way, show me the day,
I've never aged any other way than how I know.
I can feel the power flowing from my closest,
The nearest thing to me is one inside itself.
Me, what I've done, cannot be summed.
Soon as day grows weary, Soon as time closes shop,
The infinite dreams lie ahead.
Over the horizon, it's coming soon.
Can you feel it?
What could happen? What will become of tonight?
What will become of us?
You and I, it's drawing closer to us...the unavoidable;
The sun sets slow but early, the wind growing a dense cold,
The steady silent chill in every November night,
I feel the cold in my bones, I feel the anxiousness in my hands;
My smile might be bright,
But my soul is black,
My heart turned to stone
When you stabbed me in the back.
I completely stopped caring,
I don't know why I'm still alive,
I'm dead on the inside,
Yet for some reason I still survive.
All I know is I'm not the same person,
I'm not who I used to be,
You aren't either,
But I still wish you'd come back to me.
They say people change,
And damn, are they right,
But honestly, I miss you more and more,
Each and every night.
Now don't get confused,
Don't let my bright smile fool you,
I seem all put together,
But my heart is still shattered.
Come swim within this broken silence
the raging river inside beckons
the cadences we hear
are the untamed waters spring forth ,
overflowing , borne this beating heart
eroding this ardent heart's shorelines ,
leaving the thrummed edges wild
prevailing currents ,
no longer able to be contained
within the soul’s boundless margins
restlessly lost and lovely ,
I’ll be your earth and you my sky
feel the calming tide
flood in around us
I've been swimming in circles ,
treading water in an eddy of quietude ,
waiting for the world to turn ;
marooned , fighting swirling currents
the shattered places so deep within
how does it feel to be the sky
that bestows rivers' light ?(!)
how does it feel
to be constantly on my mind ?(!)
... what a beautiful piece of heartache
December 5th. 2013
an undeniable chill in the air imbibes your moment ,
... perhaps it is me :)
I have been eating flowers recently and hoping that one day I will be able to restart the garden in my heart that you tore apart. The light will shine again and roses will bloom to the steady staccato beat of my pulse, daisies and sunflowers rising up from the ground to create their own sunrise. Pale pink buds of tulips and bright blue violets will paint my veins with vivid life, the world beautiful again, the air fresher, my heart better.
The more I consume, the less there is of you and more of nature; earth taking over to heal the hurt in my soul. I tell myself this will work, it will succeed eventually; but inside the core of everything there is the pin prick of reality that leads me back to the truth.
For despite everything, I still love you.
First, last, always.
You say, "Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”
but I say surely something
must taste nicer than the burning acid
being forced back up your throat.
Why not hug people instead of
toilet bowls? At least they’ll hug back.
Except Mia is your only friend now.
And her cousin, Ana, of course.
And I understand that you never
wanted to die, but this is a thousand ton truck
hurtling towards the edge of a cliff and
Ana took the wheel a long time ago.
There is no strength in this: in you, in a
fear of calories. Even your bones creak
as your muscles sigh with exhaustion -
for this, is not a war you're winning.
This is a battle with only one contender
and I will not be the one to disarm you.
That's your job and it always has been. I know
you only wanted to be beautiful
like all those stars in the magazines
you saved under a file titled ‘thinspo’
but the only stars you ever saw were in
your eyes from the dizziness
and to tell you the truth, you are not pretty.
For there is nothing “pretty”
about the layer of fuzz your body grew
to protect itself from the big bad wolf
when really, the only growl was coming
from inside your stomach.
Or how your little sister is afraid to touch,
let alone hug you, in fear of snapping you in two.
For there is no glamour in having to
remove clumps of hair out of the plughole
at least six times whilst having a shower,
just to let the water run down.
Or that one time you "accidentally”
took too many laxatives. Messy.
There is nothing admirable about the way
you sat shivering on your bed
at night instead of kissing boys,
or dancing, or eating ice cream.
There is nothing to be marvelled at
This, is not a life to be lived.
God, this isn't even a life.
This is being a slave to your own body,
a walking zombie, a ghost stuck
between two sides.
You are not alive.
But it was all still worth it, right?
Slowly killing yourself from the inside out.
A small price to pay for perfection,
a bargain for a broken mirror;
for a half-written book
with 97 blank pages,
that only captures in black and white,
with frozen hands.
And most importantly, for a peace of mind
you never received.
at this age
i met you.
there's something wrong,
chasing after you
was a fun thing to do.
i let it go.
set my heart free.
from all the misery.
coz it's my future
and my heart shouldn't be tortured.
coz i'm not pretty sure
i set you free.
if it's mean to be
we will meet again, baby.
"I'm fine." is her response.
but, she isn't. she's just hoping to convince herself that she is, when she smiles and tells them she's fine. Just to ease her little mind, she's puts on a mask. She folds up all of her problems and disappointments and shoves them away. Just for the day. Thinking maybe, just for now, she could be happy. Thinking if she forces that fake smile, it would one day become genuine. a real smile. A genuinely happy smile. That's all she ever wanted. But the thing is, nobody knows. nobody knows who she is inside, or how hard it is for her. Not her parents, not her best friend. Because she wears a disguise. And because if they knew, they'd say she's exaggerating. She wants attention. She's just having a bad day. well the bad day turned into a bad night. A bad week. A bad month. A bad year. But she doesn't want a bad life. She doesn't try to make herself miserable. She tries really hard to be happy. Sometimes too hard. She's learned not to expect anything from anyone, because with great expectation comes great disappointment. So much disappointment. Enough to make her sadness turn into emptiness. she's rather be sad than empty.