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and this is a place i’ve been before

and this is a place i’ve seen before
watching his chocolate eyes search within the reflection of anything and everything…

he touched the surface of my conscience, waiting for the ripples to begin within 

my heart, to begin 

within 

the heap of dreams inside my soul
piled there like clean laundry waiting for a 

fresh pair of hands to fold
but his ripples came with distortion, contortion, it all became dsymorphic

my dreams converged with memories, my desires converged with melodies
sung in familiar tenor tones,
yet a voice i knew not to be my own

my own soprano theme subdued beneath the means

of self-discovery
that weren’t really meant for me, fettered to your contrary schemes,
playing out unwary scenes and losing myself in our routines,

seemed i didn’t mind losing me to find your dreams.

and so the heap of dreams inside my soul 

growing moss and growing mold,

sprouting negligence for negligees,

thread bare, left there, lying in disarray
passed by for the chosen right of way… 

chocolate eyes and hands on my surface skin, ripples, quakes, tremors, shakes;

my hazel eyes opening to your mistakes.

people are imperfect reflections, with our opaque complexions,

i was not your means, your queen, your pedestal, your play-ground. 

i was not the place for you to **** around.

left skeptical by your lechery, your ability to capture me,

self-identity came much more dearly…


what i’m trying to figure out is who to be 

and this is a place i’ve been before

and this is a place i’ve seen before
and it’s 'cause i washed up from the other shore, that i’m. ready. to. break. free.
In winter air,
the siren rings
among the leafless trees.

The night,
it falls too quickly.
The days,
they sleep too soon.
I much prefer the stretched
and strengthened days of June.

Leave be the creaking bones of snow,
Let pass this fragile moon.
I much prefer the waxed and wakened days of June.

I don’t mind
the brighter skies,
the holidays,
the giving ways,
but I much prefer the stretched
and strengthened days of June.
In my determination to fly,
I have to find a balance
between the elmer's glue,
which failed
when I flew
too close
to the sea,
and the beeswax,
which stung
more than
my own back
when I thought
it'd made me free.
My pride will be my breaking,
I'm sorry for mistaking
acid for honesty.
low
like a dog, who's been hit
maybe one too many times,
maybe just once, but too hard
i sit at your feet.

throw me a bone and i'll lick your face
all the while being terrified you'll do it again.
will you marry me?

we don't, we don't have to be
madly in love.
i'll take half
in love
half is a lot.

i promise.
when i am old and happy,
and married to someone who makes me feel safe.
we'll talk about you.

and laugh.
sometimes things sneak up on you, and kiss you softly on the cheek

and sometimes they just slam you in the face.
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