love was caught napping on the windowsill
with eyes closed on knees begging.
two springs, winters, summers, falls into
angry jaws peeking
through windowsills,
through shades of dew.
love snored awake
fumbling pupils looking upwards
in a blister

It's never been said out loud.
It's more of a mutual understanding
hanging heavy in the air
I don't want pity, I need clarity
Yes or No.
I cringe at the wait
Will you love me forever or let me go?

the vice that sets into my blood stream,
the sin that allows me to sin some more and
comfortably sits just below my skin

to let me know i can do this,
and i can say anything, be
anyone. the bottle knows my body the way
fingers do, the way lovers know their
person's ugly marks and

softens their cruel words. it is my lips that rest
on a gentle edge, a glass edge,
and tips my chin to meet the encouraging kiss.

I long to travel,
but for a place to call my own.
I wish to find true love,
but for solidarity.
I dream of spontaneity,
but of stability.
Everyday, nostalgic,
but dreaming of tomorrow.

Praying for simplicity,
if not for contradiction.

you sitting on the edge of the bed
polishing your shoes with boot black,
and I loved you then, so wise from the shower,
and I loved you many other times
and I have been, for months,
trying to drown it,
to push it under,
to keep its great red tongue
under like a fish
-anne sexton*

the smell of you, my long island ice tea breath, a single exchange
reaching over several feet
of club space.
i haven't seen you in years,
but in front of me is a young man who dove too deep in a concrete pit,
who needed too much,
who drove his mother to depression again,
and now he's smoking with his brothers
because his own isn't there,
because his own flesh ****** up and
has a baby now.  i wait for the red to reach my face,
the embarrassment of the reminder that i loved someone who wasn't ready
for my body out of the shower, or my  2 am binge,
or my breath