“find a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic”
she does, Frida
she does.
she looks at me like I am Galileo
and I have mapped the stars just for her;
she has never been more right.
I have spent countless hours
charting the constellations in her eyes,
in the way she drinks her coffee,
in the sound of her breathing when she’s fallen asleep beside me.
when the room grows still,
I kiss the night sky’s secrets into the palms of her hands,
and know that they are safe.
I am so lucky to love her, Frida.
I am so lucky she sees the light in all my dark
and chooses to stay.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 8:15 PM UTC
My mom yells at me because I never finish my cup of coffee
and I’m like mom,
I never finish anything.
Everything feels incomplete, slowly growing cold like the coffee
she made just for me
and I want to apologize to her.
I’m sorry I never finish what I wanted so badly in the first place.
It seems like I can only finish the things I don’t really want.
That six pack of beer, the hole in the wall, those red lines across my skin.
I finish the things that hurt to get them over with
and leave the things I love unfinished so I can always come back to them.
Pick up where I left off, know they’ll still be there,
waiting to be completed for when I’m ready.
Greeted with open arms and a kiss on the forehead;
“Its okay that you left, I’ve remained here for you to return.
I have not moved an inch.”
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
Tell me how I sleep.
on your side, curled up like a small child
Tell me how I wake up.
slow, hazy blinks. A “good morning” and then back to bed
Tell me how I dream.
in full color, vivid and too real. Too optimistic. I don’t think you ever really stop dreaming, even when your eyes are wide open.
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
You know that movie scene
The one where the girl unexpectedly
sees her lover in the distance
On a crowded street corner,
everything else losing focus
except for the hurried, automatic movement of legs and arms
knowing that she has to reach the end of the street
Before they disappear completely
Slipping through her imagination like
a fever dream
i can recognize the outline of your body
from a mile away
the way you stand with your feet pointed slightly apart
headphones dangling from the phone in your pocket
how you push your hair out of your face
the same way i do
i’m always afraid you’ll vanish before i reach you
not knowing that i was seconds away from grabbing your shirt sleeve
saying look,
here i am
i don’t know where you’re going but
can i come with you?
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 6:34 PM UTC
describe how you think the sky looks lately
how the leaves seem to fall in a certain pattern
what the silence says to you compared to what it says to me
sometimes the rain leaves love notes on my window
*meet me by the river
the one you see in your dreams*
i dream of the river kissing my eyelids
the cool water a warm blanket
tucking me in to sleep
i never sleep long enough
something tears me awake every time
the love note blown away
i find i’d been holding my breath
a gasp of air through aching lungs
almost as if i had been drowning
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
she has these eyes
these eyes like softened soil
like dreams could grow into reality
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
cartographer of my heart
there are days when I will not be easy to read
I will hold myself upside down and backwards
buried beneath bruised knuckles and cheap fear
and yet late at night I find you saying
“you still make sense to me”
leaving landmarks on my skin
signs that say “you are here"
and here
and here
trace the land lines in my palms
and know they will always guide you home
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:37 AM UTC
hey, are you doing anything?
i’ve been reading a lot of poetry and i was wondering
if you wanted to stay up all night again
and when i say stay up all night again
i mean let’s not sleep a single hour
roll around on the floor again
chlorine scented hair
and warm hands
under torn shirts
and let’s go swimming in my grandmothers pool
in our underwear at two in the morning
float on our backs to see the stars
maybe we’ll catch the sun rise just over the neighbors roof
or maybe we’ll dry off
and eat melted klondike bars in the driveway
and i’ll be tempted to lick the chocolate off of your
fingers
hey, are you doing anything?
let’s hold each other’s face
like we’re stopping earth’s orbit
and pretend the sun won’t rise anytime soon
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
I read a sign on the interstate driving home today
‘expect the unexpected’
The wires in my brain are short circuiting again
And I feel myself slipping on black ice
I think I may have hit my head
Days seem like seconds
They jump back and forth like a game of hopscotch
Making me forget homework was due today
and not next week
Winter has come and gone
But my body still moves in slow motion, frozen
Unable to thaw even in the hottest shower
Even when my skin is bright red and burning
My room is a stagnant body of water
The walls seem to know how to breathe
Drawing closer with each inhale
And I am terribly claustrophobic
How can I expect the unexpected
when I knew this was coming?
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
She calls me "baby" and I don’t flinch
it feels like I am Joan of Arc
and her touch is the fire
flames licking up the sides of my body
Jesus Christ does it feel good to burn
I’ve never had anyone touch me the way she does
Soft yet hungry
Understanding of the scars
and still wanting to kiss me
I want to leave ink stains all over her
marking my territory so everyone knows
I will never get tired of your warm, fidgeting hands
Please don’t tire of mine
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 11:32 AM UTC