The morning slowly cuts my ties to dreamland,
visions dissipating as my sleep-laden eyes
open to daylight. It is a ****** our greatest
enemy, gratingly kind as it greets
us and peers in on me stirring in the folds of your
arms. Once again, the hours have eluded my control
and soon I must become a slave to the
the menial and routine. Dread creeps
in my stomach, contaminating my calm. Stubborn,
I linger, my fingers pressing into your cotton-soft
skin, always comforting to the touch. I am swathed
in repose and security, as my body contours
into yours. Longing to linger battles my commitments;
evidence of your hold on me. Reluctant, I press my lips
to your cheek, softly groaning as I wrench myself from
your strong frame. Goodbyes with us never seem
to get easier, and the days always lag. I constantly
dream of coming home to crawl atop your body
as you pull me into you, the keeper of my dreams and qualms,
unabashed witness to my tears, my immovable, ever-faithful
bed.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
i want to prose you on the kitchen table
with my smile melting into your own.
and i want to prose you as colors of the sunset
awash your skin,
preserving our moment in amber.
oh,
and can i prose you in the morning
before we go to work
and sleepiness has
not quite
fled from our muscles?
i want to prose you while your fingertips
trail from
my cheek
to my hair
to my shoulders,
effortless like water
trickling down the length of me.
i want to prose you
roughly,
gently,
quietly,
loudly,
taking our time,
lettings details fill themselves
between the hours.
i want to prose you in the dead of winter,
with the fire crackling like a whispered secret,
and in the slowest molasses days of summer,
when grime and sweat clings to flypaper skin.
i will prose you ‘till we are speechless,
and sleeping tucked between the pages of a masterpiece.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:32 PM UTC
I dare you to play my heartstrings,
strong as spiderweb silk.
Your presence runs through me like
rusty barbed wire,
a screaming putrescence.
My heart corrodes and heals in waves,
taking and giving.
I let your name gather dust.
I watch the crackled paint details peel,
marred remnants deteriorate.
I feel you forget me like a childhood memory.
I release the heavy syllables of you into the sky,
each sound and memory sailing like dandelion dust,
waiting to land and grow in safer spaces.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
"Wht r u doin’?"
Thinking of ways
to connect her freckles
to his.
Letting his emotions
slip on the clothes of
grown-up ideas, loose-fitting
and tripping him stumbling.
Comparing her eyes
to frozen blue sky.
Feeling sleepily
sundered in two.
Wanting her to wear his eyes
for once.
Wishing he could tell her
the truth.
The usual.
"Procrastinatin’, u?"
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 8:29 PM UTC