Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
BF Jun 2016
All these toothbrushes look so similar.
I don't see this ending well for somebody
Well for two,
the user and the used
BF Apr 2016
Crawling upright
Days days
You think nothing
passing you
You're crawling upright,
forgetting the date
BF Feb 2016
You put on the layers I take off
You shiver, I flush
My face begets the commencement of a rainbow,
betraying any coolness of composure, and I wonder if there is a correlation
between our temperatures and temperaments

You demand but you don't know what you want (except for me to
turn off the air conditioner)
It's the claim without the pick up,
an unspoken ultimatum: don't come
come too close, but let me into your bed

In the morning I wake sticky
Not a **** sticky, just a sweaty sticky
While the stars were making their rounds,
a window must have closed– No. It must have shut.
Air stale, covers compromised, last night already a memory

I reach out, with expectation like sunrise,
but a deflated glove doesn't grab back
I blink a few times, registering the significance of flaccidity
My spirit depleted, now unnerved and unsure about
the plan for breakfast

Walking away you leave no comma, no colon, no ellipses
For all the warmth that pools in my cheeks,
it is you who scalds with your minimalist approach
You are not Frank Stella.
And with that, the door closes– No. It shuts.

To make a mockery out of this would be to bump a bruise
that I didn't mind getting; I was having too much fun falling
to see the truth in black and blue–
I didn't anticipate this chill.

I never got to know how you take your eggs.
BF Feb 2016
I'd bring a lot to the table,
I'd even bring the table cloth
But furniture proves too fixed for you.
You write in pencil and you won't sit down.

In the morning your hand didn't grab back,
and this defines the terms of the debate.
It's concrete enough for me to lose the metaphors.
I say, with a bluntness that can only come from being hurt,:
If this doesn't hold meaning for you,
get out of my bed.
BF Feb 2016
the crumbs under your cushions, the tears you didn't let fall
receipts, regrets, writings in the margins
your bruises and the how behind them
what you owe and to who
the ice you couldn't break through and that which wouldn't burn
what you couldn't chew, what you swallowed but didn't digest

Share with me your quilt of defeats.
We will throw it away.

And I will keep you warm.
BF Feb 2016
Sometimes I wish I
had never met you
Then again,
maybe that wish is being
made by someone who
wishes that all her wishes
didn't revolve around the very
one she can't wish away
BF Jan 2016
I'm trying to keep our breaths in sync
but yours aren't deep enough
Next page