Some nights,
I travel my fingers through my hair and across my thighs,
Eyes closed, but my heads filled with visions of you.

Goosebumps like Braille, spelling your name, over and over and over,
And over,
And over

I mimic your movements,
Slow and steady,
But it’s such a shame that the space beneath my eyes,
Is so much wetter than the place between my thighs,
And it’s so silly how I choke and I cry,
On your name, again and again.

I move from room to room,
A phantom in the morning sun

I move to fill the vacant,
I move to fill the stillness,
I move to mirror my interior.

Restless in the comfort of silk,
Confined to the four walls of my brain,
I move to an irregular beat,
My feet dance across the negative space,
Fingers outstretched to nothingness

Maybe if I move,
Maybe if I manifest,
I’ll find tactility,
Maybe,

You are there
Like an ache
In my bones
You are there
Like a heaviness
In my heart
You are there
Like a fixture
In my mind
You are everywhere
In the way I dress
And walk
And talk
And think
You are everywhere
Except in my arms

-jt

To peel back your skin,
To sink my teeth deeply within,
Nothing between us,
Just flesh juice and core,
Treat me to what’s yours.

What if I had one more eye?
Noble with clarity-
A superior eye.

It would see tomorrow,
Not yet set in stone,
So set apart from the world I know-

Distinctive and discernible,
I envision a procession,
Of time trailed before me.

Enthroned on my brow,
The lone eye would crest,
Possessed with its profound unrest.

Clairvoyant, cunning, beaming eye-
Perched above organs of trivial nature,
Adorned, a crown that never cries,
It knows no regretful quakers.

How magnificent!
It would be,
To see so clearly,
To amend early,
To haven from horror,
To have an aura,
Of the triumphs yet to unfold,
If only an eye that bold,
Were part of me.