Twice to be exact...
The first time was slow,
but not hesitant, deliberate.
Soft and pink I left my mark
on the plaid pattern and he held
me, our bodies washed in warm
shadows from a single flame
burning at both ends

The second time was quick
and messy, but we needed
each other more than we needed
clean more than we needed
perfect. I needed him, all of him,
and his soft edges not the
Instagram filtered version of
himself he showed the world.
And I needed to show him
the real me, raw and red

When I look back on that
summer all I see is him and red
I hope that he remembers
that summer as red as I do
and that red now somehow
feels like blue...
I stained his sheets and
he stained my summer,
with coffee and beer, with
grass and sand in my shoes.
With morning breath kisses,
And motorcycle fumes.
With salt water mixed with
my mascara: happy tears,
hot and burning red!

Where are you now?
    are you alone,
do you miss me...?

I miss your sleeping body,
pressed against mine
in the early morning.
The way you'd stretch,
and bend around me
like a question mark.
Your body wanting me
before your mind woke.

Could we go back?
To that place?
Forget that you gave up,
and let our bodies
remind us of why we fell
in the first place?

I don't get a lot of things right,
but I know that when I have you,
you will be my greatest achievement.
I will take you to our home that
is built on the best kind of love
the kind that is gentle and permanent.
When you are one, and your first word
is daddy,
I'll understand, he is a man
who inspires my best poetry too.

When you are six, and you want to
pick out your own clothes for your
first day of kindergarten, I'll let you.
I will also take pictures.

The day I have to explain the
difference between lust and
love to you, how you came to be,
and why you're family is broken, will be the worst day of my life,
until the day I have to mend your
first broken heart.
I can tell you now that I will not
know what to say or do in either
situation, but I can tell you this:
That loving and being loved should
be easy, like breathing, it should
Flow freely in and out of you.
That it's ok to have loved many
times, so long as, each love is as
healing as when you inhale. If it
fills you up from the inside and
out. That is how I loved your father.
We need love like we need air, but
we inhale and we exhale.
When love leaves you, it will feel
like you cannot breathe, through
the pain in your chest, but breath
little girl. Take full deep breaths
and know that you were my
second love, but also my best.

To know you was
   to love you,
To love you was
   to find myself,
To find myself was
   to loose you,
To loose you was to know,
   you never loved me.

At the intersection
of Thirteen and Sheyenne.
I'm heading West, him East.

I had a vision:
His motorcycle twisted
under my SUV
pinned to the asphalt,
pinned to the sheets,
Back flash to
the assault,
all my fault...

The light wasn't red,
but it wasn't green either.
His fault for being in
my moral blind spot.

We made eye contact,
mine stayed dry,
he broke first
and for a second time,
he ran the red.

Scarlet wings,
Flightless bird.
Perched upon
Shelves. Daydreams
Of the hands that
Folded her and
Wonders: where
Have they gone?
What went wrong?

Or third or fourth,
After work or school,
another girl or his ex.
Always after number one:
himself,
his car,
his motorcycle,
his friends,
his needs-

The sad sinking feeling
when you realize that
you've become comfortable
coming in last place

You take the crumbs he
feeds you while you let
him feast on your lips

This, in your mind, is love
and you'd never ask for
more because you don't
deserve to come in first