my lips
are a doorjamb
blocking all
but a wail

my words succinct
yet you cannot
hear them

my attention is deficit
like a bird with no worms
to find

he teleports
to his next location
a jolt of electricity
popping
from one streetlamp
to the other

never soaring
he has no wings to flap

i am a flower, the dream someone longs for knowing, cotton candy clouds pink as the fairy’s magic kiss. the hand which curls over your cheek just as the moon crescents the sun, an eclipse of love, the darkness around which the world turns.

i am a dancer, my dress a costume, the silk covering my insecurities, turning like a top when i prance and skip through the jungle. the leopards love me. they chase the sun, frolicking in the dew-drawn leaves, the monkeys cheering as they watch the race.

i am stardust. my hair is fire, concealed only by my bun, i am careful not to burn you.

this is my reality, my safest seclusion, as to hurt you, i could never. this black hole is a solitude.

a reuleaux triangle attached to the ball
the curved aluminum clunk on the heel
with one stomp, i give my power to you

silencing my screams, you yell for me
with every brush and scuff, you sing a song
of an endless symphony

yet, when naked, you move like an animal
a quick pounce, your point sharp,
taking flight, soaring
like a bird turning
from snake to angel back
to a wildebeest hitting the marley-floor
with nothing but a soft patter
your energy escaping back
into the earth ready
for your next adventure

pre-date jitters
perfect posture
pick me up at eight

social scrolls
late-night strolls
forehead kisses
mr. and mrs.

couch cuddles
midnight movie
head on shoulder
kiss on cheek

forget me not
forget me never
i am yours
forever and ever

*

Fingers trembling; lips dry
Make-up reapplied seven times
Back straight; ****, he’s late
Smooth your dress, try not to stress

Timeline trailing; a tagging trend
Neither wants to see the end
Hand in hand, the stars above
He points out which she reminds him of

Back at home, when they’re alone
A kiss on the head, she’s ready for bed
But with ring in hand, he asks for a band

Kids asleep, eating leftover Peeps
Mundane Mondays come only once a week
Television sounds softly; lights are down low
Her head on his shoulder, his kiss on her brow

Mini blue flowers
A reminder of their vows
To grow old together, and forever they shall

I am bamboozled.
The instructions are
a monotonous contradiction.

For every tale
I read of traitorous bloodlust,
of holy hypocrisy,
my motivation to finish
this ****** bibliography
escapes my body,
flailing itself into
the constellations.

I am left nothing more
then a gelatinous sack,
a sorrowful student
resembling some
squashed cranberries.