My love is night
cradles thee tenderly
horror is what is unknown
Promise with each day
one thing in the world to be certain
comfort in the promise
forever comes to an end
build a fire to be ablaze
Love and hope
inquire if they are the same
make of it what you will
I deem beauty in the unilluminated
although in order for one to love
luster must show his face
Shadows differ from blackness
for one needs light to cast a shadow
It was a sunday,
that I remember like it was
and I wished,
I could kiss your lips,
and feel you emotionally.
But the problem,
with intimacy is,
it’s mostly a two way street.
emotional or physical.
So I stand back,
and look at the lights,
as they hit your soft eyes,
and tell me things about myself,
I never really knew.
I took pride in the fact,
I wanted nothing,
and life gave back the same.
But as you entered,
I soon came to realize,
that everything will change.
and it did,
good or bad,
I still can’t decide.
But I wish,
I was as simple,
as coloring a page,
and colors and detail.
anyway you want,
anyhow you want.
But I am a jigsaw puzzle,
with the pieces thrown together,
most of them missing.
You came to me,
when I needed it most.
But it’s not enough,
to rid of my ghosts.
Insecurity is a burden to be,
which is why i cling to independency.
I wish it were different,
but you are you,
I am me.
The problem with intimacy is,
it can leave me more exposed,
Then any type
of lustful encounter
How can you open up,
and give yourself to someone,
with such little to offer,
and so much to handle.
If I could harness the hands of time,
I would use them to feel you,
in ways I never could.
I would take back the times,
I chose liquid courage,
instead of truth,
instead of sanity.
The problem with closeness,
is it breeds distance.
And there aren’t enough,
hands of time to ever turn back,
how badly I pushed you away.
I would love to love,
but some things,
are so overwhelmingly terrifying,
you’d rather feel nothing,
than get something
and feel everything,
all at once.
I tried before,
to get to you,
in ways I never had,
like deep conversation,
and learning about each other.
But some things,
are never enough,
the hands of time,
can never wipe away the past.
Could it have been love?
My on and off intimacy with a boy who had the flesh of a man.
I think of him
And the time we had spent
Wrapped in each other, buried beneath covers from the sun.
I remember the chill that lingered around us
To the point we searched for warmth in each other.
He completed me... only momentarily.
Then gauged deeper into the emptiness in me.
He sought me in winter and dumped me in summer.
Spring bared no fruit to our love.
If love is a blossoming flower then ours was plucked early.
I know that his hands found the warmth of another
And I want to take him back.
Yet I don’t…. Cause if this was love
Why does it feel so unrequited?
And I won’t be fooled into seeking someone who isn’t just mine.
But I still think of him and the weight he continuous to put on my heart.
Even though we no longer are connected.
I haven't met someone I wanted to be vulnerable to around, really ever.
The intimacy always snuck up on me with quiet and calculated missteps,
or I forced it in.
I never did it right I never took it slow.
But the fact that the only place your hand has ever been is on the top of my thigh, resting carefully palm open, trying to reflect no meaning--
I feel safe.
I hope someday you get to love me,
because for the first time I feel safe to let you
I wish you could see me the way you saw her
Invest in her hobbies
And all she concurs
Knowing her in and out
The infatuation the adoration
If only you could see me the way you saw her.
I may be with you
There is no difference
I cannot control your point of views
My mind refuses to acquiesce
I wish you could see me the way you saw her.
I wonder how you would be
The difference in all possibilities
You on my end instead
Feeling the pains of an unrequited lover's bed
I wish you could see me the way you saw her.
She is the bane of my insecurities
What was once a strong and confident woman
Has succumbed and bathes in endless pain.
How little I've become to let a lover's past
Possess me feeling inhumane.
I wish I could see me before I saw her.
Accepting you've moved on
Why do I still feel so withdrawn?
I wish I could believe you love me more than you did her.
Is it my thirst for knowledge
The reason I'm broken?
Knowing all you've done for her
Yet none for me?
The time and energy I've always longed for
I wish all you did for her you did for me.
I want to be secure with you
To keep on loving you the way I do
Enjoying our friendship and the intimacy we share
You care, I know
But I'm struggling to stay happy with you
To forgive and let go
I wish you knew how much I love you.
The frustration I'm going through
To stay with you
You see more in me than what you saw in her.
Though I do not know
For your feelings are never shown
The truth will set me free
And I'll no longer wish
you could see me the way you saw her.
I’ve got to sleep on the outside of the bed
closest to the window
closest to the door
it’s crossed my mind
more than once
more than a few times
more than enough times
that it must be because I like to run away
and an easy exit
is a relief
I’ve always liked to run away
I’ve always liked too much space
by the wall
my heart pounds
like I’m trapped
and there’s something so stupid
if I need to get up to pee or get a glass of water,
or stand underneath the moonlight,
I’ll wake him up
and the intimacy of sharing an
"I can’t sleep" moment
scares the shit out of me
because the question "why?" always follows
and I’m not ready to answer that question
just yet -
even though we’ve had sex,
I’m not ready to be that intimate
I can’t stand a man
though it seems like most of them do
and all I can do
is make do
and just lay there, until suddenly,
but then he’ll move and I’m awake again,
until suddenly I’m not
and then it’s morning
and our breath smells
and it’s embarrassing to kiss
until it’s not anymore
and then I’ll want him to leave
but it’s rude to ask someone to leave
even though everyone has the right to
want to be
I’m beginning to run away
Somewhere the path turned from forest, to brush, to tundra
Then to the breaching pink granite of yesterday.
The features are familiar and the scrub trees fill the same crevices
The glacial radicals, still sentinels that are always watching.
I can still gather together the sticks to light a fire
And it warms me against the northern chill air
The swell of rock is cold beneath me,
And my body is a poor reservoir from which to warm it.
Already the moon of November is here
Though the calendar hasn't yet announced it.
It comes unbidden with piercing icy tendrils through ancient trees
All silver and platinum and stainless steel.
An inky lake laps at the base of the granite whale's back
An intimacy born quietly over the millennia.
Of a petrified swelling-surface relaxing under the pressure,
Of jack-pine root fingers snaking through ancient seams.
You left you imprint on me, by bruising me.
With your fists you wailed on me
turning me cold
Sucker punched my chest cavity to snatch the wind from me
Blackened my eyes, to cause me to see your perception of me...
Caused my lips to bleed, that I might forever remember the way your words could
Your mouth is a military weapon, and with your words you sniped my hope, dreams and integrity
Pinned my hands behind my soul and murdered my young woman hood, execution style.
You left your imprint on me, by bruising.
Leaving eternal, never healing bruises on my metaphysical
These both literal and metaphorical bruises were your love letters to me
The only intimacy I ever knew with you
The only time I desired to call out daddy
Solely in plea for you to release your grip on me
End your constant jabs at my self esteem
causing me to buckle and reach for the emptiness in the atmosphere without any faint hope that you would cease
These never healing scars I trace and follow along the lines of my spirit have all but faded
As I lie, awakened by cold sweats and the realization that I am beyond jaded,
I curse the thought of you
Because you left an imprint on me, by bruising me
Bruises that no amount of frozen steak or peas can relieve
You bruised the very fabric of my being
Causing me to reach out in the night, trying to grasp my shattered dreams of what you could be,
But instead, you left your imprint on me.
And because of it I shutter, quake and quiver at the mention of your name.
Because you bruised me.
Bittersweet lime-flavoured love
An apparition, a ghost, a face I think of
A mere shadow without definition or name
A hopefulness for the fulfilment of why I came.
Stretching into the ghetto of my mind
Is a body, a shape, a stencil of who may be mine
Reaching against the wicked hands of time
Yet never grasping; a drop of sugar, a cup of lime
Down on my knees with my hands clasped tight in prayer
And my will alone shakes the foundation, yet no one appears
Errant tendrils of loneliness grip at my rotting soul and heart
And the rejection, and the hurt, and the hope tears me apart.
I am now a sinister, cynical shell of who I used to be
And I plead, I beg the monotony to set me free
As I am suffocating on the slimmest sliver of a wish
My head turned upwards, lips waiting for a kiss.
Whether love, or like, or grudging intimacy
So be it, for I need it, and whatever else it may be
Thus, I will wait by the water's edge where the waves are violent
I'll wait at the volcano's peak, before it erupts, when all is quiet.
I'll hang to a fraying rope placed miles above solid ground
I'll stand at the edge of a tall building and dizzy myself looking down
Until someone, or something, arrives from somewhere to extend my time
Until the taste finally fades: a drop of the sweetest sugar, a cup of bitter lime.