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 Aug 2020 blackbiird
erin
what does it feel like to be held
not by another body
not by a set of limbs, a chest, a chin
but
by another soul

what does it feel like
to see truth in another pair of eyes
instead of hidden intentions
instead of absence

what does it feel like
to hear a familiar heartbeat
resounding next to your own
reaching through skin
through bone
two rhythms
indistinguishable

what does it feel like
to write poems about
a love that exists
 Aug 2020 blackbiird
love
From the saddest part of my heart,
I try to write the saddest words.
Words filled with deserted dreams,
Words that will expunge me.

But, will it make the souls quiver?
Will it sting the sternest heart?
Peel my tempestuous mind,
And turn it into a delicate art.

After I write, in the tears filled night.
Will it soak up, all the sorrows of life?
With the eyes of pity, and fear-filled skin,
Will you cry as I bleed with the ink?

If it can do none, then seal the hands that write.
Beyond this promise me to never unrecalled my words,
And call me the traveler who dreamt of the saddest poem.
 Aug 2020 blackbiird
amanda
timing
 Aug 2020 blackbiird
amanda
i believe in
wrong places
and wrong people
but never wrong timing

you are never too early
or too late
for all the lessons and beauty
meant for you
 Aug 2020 blackbiird
Erin
You expected a girl,
your own notion of femininity.
You expected me to laugh, to talk,
but only in bubbles,
Wonka’s fizzy lifting drink.
You expected to float
on my wiles
I’d heft you up while you cruise.
Well, you get nothing.
You lose.
Good day, sir.
 Aug 2020 blackbiird
Cassie Mae
“Why do you fear the stars?” He asked, his hands in my hair.
“Because as they fall
They burn their brightest,” I said.

‘And what if you’re not there to catch me?’ I thought as his lips met mine.
You are an unfinished work of art
I am always drawn to imperfection!
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