late night loving
skin melted into gold
wrapped within your warmth
no longer will I be cold
open me up
my legs light as paper
thick thumbs across crumpled corners
come, feel my consciousness taper
the moon rises slowly
four green eyes in the dark
all I'd known was ashes dull
'till you, my only spark
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 9:35 PM UTC
The sun glows differently this time of year
Strong and fierce, dragging scorching bodies to the cold release of water
I know no other love this strong
Butterfly flickers and seaweed dances in the sunset afterglow
Souls come out to play in that humid haze
A little too early, but too long to wait
Kiss me, hold me before its too late
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
September has come and I can feel the change in my fingertips
You are home again and I am moving slower
Warmth arises when I look at you, maybe its the heat
Or the way every step you take matters.
You look at me as if I hold secrets, as if I am a grand and open sea, undiscovered
And the next moment, like the dreamy memory of a path you once took,
The sound of a drum, the smell of pine wafting
Unchanging, unforgotten
I may know nothing at all,
But there is one thing I am sure of—
My soul aches to be near you, to feel yours sing back softly
I know the seasons change for a reason
The tides push + pull, hearts pulse for years on end
And that you my dear, are as stable, as steady as the earth beneath my aching soles
You lift me up,
You carry me home.
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
Our love’s only remains belong to photographs. But not, printed, or digital,
Photographs in my mind.
See, I never thought once during the holy nights we spent together to take out my phone and capture the beauty of your skin under the moonlight.
Somehow I knew our time was too precious
The pictures in my mind are something of a different kind,
Magical and dazed
All around you I see dull purples and blues, but your silhouette only, a burning red
Before cameras existed and all we had was art to remember each other by, there was no truth. Only the perfect imperfect visions of one another.
I think that’s how I would like to remember you.
Thick paint on a blank canvas, never concrete — no one to say yes or no, to tell me whether or not the beautiful things you whispered to me were true or false
Maybe that’s why I can’t forget you. I can’t look the other way when you're walking by. I only wish that time would slow down so I could pretend we are walking together. You are art to me. I choose to see the beauty in you, when I should be seeing your flaws, your imperfections, pointed out clearly in film.
Because aren’t we all lovers? And aren’t we all poets? To me, breathing is writing, every move we make tells the long and ever-so-dramatic tales of our lives. And doesn’t life imitate art? Do we not read to be aware? Of fictional characters and how all their sighs, and breathes alike spill out like ink onto a page? And we understand them. Humans and art alike. And aren’t we just art? Each and every single one of us?
What I mean to say is I watched feature-length films begin and end with the bat of your eyelashes. A kiss to the back of my hand. Your arm around my waist is an art form in itself.
My mind is a dangerous place. Please, don’t come too close. I may paint you too deeply into my painting, I may love you too much, I may never want to remember you any other way.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
I.
If I could take my pain, and wrap it up all pretty, like a present under the tree, your name would be on the tag
Your face is a ghost under my fingertips, empty promises laced with the scent of his cologne
But not yours, you, you don’t smell like him, you don’t laugh like him or smile like him and your eyes are empty chambers.
Two blue jail cells, without anyone to stay, see the only eyes I know are brown
The only men I know how to love are
Not you I wish I had words to describe but I don’t and I find it hard because the only comfort I feel lives in a face I haven’t seen in months
II.
My heart is used to being used, but this time feels different
I’m used to silence on the way home, final words lies, but this, it felt
Tired
Aching
Like a worn out song too many times played
Like a book begging to have the pages closed,
III.
I’ve ran out of ways to change.
I cut my hair, started drinking bitter coffee
Just to keep myself alive for the next moment
I feel the change in my skin, my eyes feel older than before
Maybe that’s why your hair is long. Maybe that’s why you stopped wearing glasses. Maybe you couldn’t stand the idea that I once knew your short hair and glasses, maybe I left a scar bigger than you’d like to admit
Because
You left all these scars, and they hurt like hell
And they all look like you running your fingers through my long hair — see I can’t stand the idea that you once knew my hair as long
My fingers tingle when I hear your voice
It makes me want to run away, but move 5 steps too close
The ghost of my past self dances under the skin I have since overgrown
IV.
To the boy who felt nothing like him,
I’m sorry things didn’t work out right
I’m sorry that you couldn’t see the fire in my eyes
You see so many have tried to put me out,
But I’m still burning,
My heart will never grow cold,
I’m just here,
Waiting
Patiently
For the final spark
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
i am my hands
and all that my gentle hands do
the words they write,
the wheels they steer,
the hands they hold
my palms are a story; i beg you to look deeper
see the cracks in my flesh, because those marks,
they belong to me
i want you to find your way through the dark
by touching only my fingertips
i am my feet
and all the miles they have traveled
the all too hot sand
and the all too cold water
i am bright red toenails
and sandal tanlines
use my footsteps as a guide,
step where I have stepped,
i will never lead you astray
i am my eyes
and all the beauty they witness
two doors to the soul,
creaking as they open,
letting the light shine through me
i belong to every single blink my eyes have fluttered
my own personal camera, they show me the way
please, get lost in my eyes
open my doors
do not be afraid of what’s on the other side
i want you to unwrap me,
unravel me,
understand me
you see, i am the overwhelming desire to be known
underneath what is on the outside,
underneath the layers that keep me together
my body is a home
let me shelter you with it
it is all i’ve ever known
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
loving looked good on you
simple, as easy as the late summer wind
i found myself lost within your lies
I was living my daydream
the winding roads we drove upon
still haunt me now
the winter brought snow and ice
but their stoplights stay steadily changing
your deep brown eyes
are only but a dream, fading in the morning light
everyday I wish to relive those sacred moments with you
I wish I could crawl back inside of the skin I have since shed
my fingertips have long since forgotten you,
but my heart,
she’s been aching ever since
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 10:51 PM UTC
he is the gum wrapper crumpled at the bottom of my backpack
a simple memory that lingers in my head for days
i want to understand, why i never feel like enough
a passing thought that makes my heart ache
the first snowfall of the season brings me back,
to a place when i still had a grasp on myself
wet snowflakes clinging to my dry clothes feel like stolen kisses
a soft, white blanket, is now unveiled to what is beneath,
a cold hard ground
although it seems like a dream now, somehow it is a dream i can not stop dreaming
frozen hands hide away in coat pockets in early January
freezing rain and a velvet dress for February
so much happiness yet to be discovered
hope, before the long, cold
unthawable winter
and as the snow melts to rain, i find myself wishing for that winter wonderland i lost myself in
summer was always meant for change,
and i guess that all started with you.
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 12:23 AM UTC
today my two cats turned fourteen
I wonder if they know
do cats feel age?
I don't want to
the water is no longer hot by the time it reaches the drain
it drags down straggling pieces of hair along with it
as I pull them out of my red itchy scalp
my hair is too long not to brush anymore
and i can feel more and more falling out every time
each strand is a thought
a struggling idea that wants to live but cannot
washed down the drain before i choose to act on it
I use two different kinds of soap because I like the smell of both of them
i realize that the moment between the kiss is better than the actual kiss
the longing, the reaching
the mixed breaths rolling in and out of open mouths
tells a much more beautiful story
I scrub at my face
I feel the rough spots, the bumps
I scrub harder
even though i know that no matter how hard i wash
it will not become clean
I will not be vibrantly beautiful
like it is in my dreams
and as i stand (or sometimes sit) in the never-changing shower
I realize that my life
will never be as vibrant
as my dreams
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 12:25 AM UTC
he is a flower growing in the middle of a winter
buds just popping up over a blanket of white
begging for a chance to live
he wants to thrive
i can see it in his eyes
i feel it in his touch
for i have never met a person like him
fearless
crazy in all the right ways
he teaches the sun to shine
and the moon to glow
i follow his lead
i step in his footsteps, much bigger than mine
he always waits for me
he is always ready to love, arms wide open
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 12:20 AM UTC