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S
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A

      H
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A

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                  T                  I
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W
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i breathed him in
like a drag off of
one of his cigarettes,
long
slow and
cool.
i held him in
before exhaling
and promised
this time would be
my last.

maybe
you've-had-it-right
all/  a/    long
i. don't. know.
how.
toslowthislove;
D.  O.        wn.
~~sp~in~
sWEll
some\shallow\attempt
《 》》 to inhale》
your <lips>
in. my.      mouth.
fing er s on
my _ veins
thighs@myshoulders
your )( redolence )(
your-hair
the mellllllttttt
we = feel
your °look°
my
STare
& who w{c}ould
ever
(want to)
For _ Get
that¿
[my] dear

I can't write
there is to much noise
kids are playing
with their toys

dog is barking
chasing the cat
wife is asking
do I look fat?

phone is ringing
someone at the door
some kind of puddle
on the floor

a little quiet
and some peace
need a bit of
literary release

grab my book
close the door
sit in the corner
on the floor

pen to paper
I start to write
I don't care
if it takes all night

putting thoughts
into written word
gives me the freedom
of a bird

soaring high
up in the sky
words flowing
I start to cry

writing has been
such a gift
hope my words
give you a lift

he likes to call me dollface

and i let him unravel my threads,
because i'm not quite porcelain like he seems
to think - more so a rag doll, yarn for
hair, buttons for eyes, soft and
easy.

we started as a series of stolen things:
glances, secrets, moments in a walk-in freezer,
and i keep wondering how that all led us
here, stealing time as
he lights a bowl and i
dance circles in his living room

all the while he is watching
like he is in a museum, and i am
art behind a glass to
stare at, never
touch

he reaches out and falls short,
calls me over but never follows through,
pulls my threads and
sews me up again
each time
he calls me
dollface