The detergent that smells like you gives me a rash

he isnt even worth a poem

veiled behind the barbs of acacia
the river bathes in the lazy sun

she's a thousand years or more
but knocks my heart's door
like a flirtatious teen

come deflower me
bare me in your poetry
wear me on your skin

soon she would be lost to the sky
leaving on the banks echoes of her lust

i pause for a piece of her
before my dream turns to dust!

if i am a cloud, than you are
the bolts between the vapors.
with wool spinning between my canines,
i’m eating the white fluff like cotton candy.
your flares ***** holes through my dripping
crystals.
cumulus merging with stratocumulus,
cherry hues making love with
sunset oranges.
if i am a cloud, than you are the rain
droplets resting within me,
the sun rays shaking and quacking in
me

God to me is nothing more than fiction,
but his attendance is fervent
when your tongue flickers between
my thighs.

between reality and sedatives,
I was a mermaid with green glimmering
scales and sopping hair with highlights of sun.
you were the sailor and I was singing you home,
home, home.

between ****** and originality,
I wanted to break the bed with
the daemons creeping between my cradles.

between fainting and breathing in
kaleidoscopes, the atmosphere
was nothing but the lines between your lips.

between ******* and sleeping,
******* and sleeping, I cannot remember what
real life felt like. between love bites and bruises,
I no longer want to know what clean skin looks
like.

between kisses and *******,
I have danced through clouds and
met with stars, and they have told me
what I already
knew.

his fingers pluck among my curves and i am his guitar,
and with each chord he strums my skin sizzles.
within my earlobes he whispers all the obscenity i crave,
murmuring tunes while our eyelashes flutter along
late night rainstorms.
among my neck he skims among pastures,
breathing beams through my clavicle.
his tongue riffs between my core, leaving ashes
behind.
he finds the beat within my hips, my pelvis
pounding and churning disco, rock operas, ***** rap
to the tempo of creaking
mattress.
his mouth panting lyrics, his teeth carving
notes.
with the growl of my name, i am singing it over
and over and over
and over.

wavelets on the wall were colors i couldn’t find within
my own strings,
your hair, the color of copper dancing in the sunshine,
the tears you spilled the deliverance i
hungered for.
i want trees within my lungs, and i want the branches
to grow within me, so i can have leaves and flowers
and the need to need.
kaleidoscope horizons were kissing my brain,
and i saw you through vibrations,
and i wondered if all we are is
wires connecting
connecting.
radio wires attempting to find other waves that
will collide within us to make
beautiful music.
and i knew, knew, knew, that your vibrations
were made to shake and gallop within
my own drums.
and when i cried you told me i was beautiful and i
knew i was everything within the galaxies,
your goddess that held
fire within her
fingers.

the sky was looming with gunmetal wisps,
tickle me pinks squeezing among lavenders.
sunny blues and cotton clouds merged among the
charcoal prophecies. darkness kissing light.

i was soaked within seconds, screaming yet
laughing, feeling my bones shake and rattle along the
drips.

i ran through puddles, the sky nothing but sheets of
recollections. my skin limp and drenched, becoming part of
the soggy grass between my toes.

the rain stopped within minutes, the sky changing to
juicy orange.
as i attempted to dry myself with sopping towels, i stared at the sky,
and was reminded of us making love. beauty, beauty, beauty.

when i was 15, a boy with a fake tooth and emerald eyes
took me to a steep hill and attempted to throw
me over his shoulder.
the grass was freshly wet, so we slipped and my knees bounced.

a school night, he invited me in his parents car and
we sat side by side in the back.
my throat was full of barbwire and i couldn’t move, my knees
burning, my arms rigid. a boy with subtle eyelashes told me i was cool,
but the barbwire traveled through legs.

we used to watch movies until he got bored and i fell in love
too quickly, shivering between his legs, his fingers
pulsing bruises.

when i was 17 i fell in love with a chain smoker and a man
who couldn’t grow up. except no, it wasn’t love. perhaps pity,
but i liked his large hands and how he had seen the world through
tar tinted glasses.

he told me we had to make love,
and when we finally did a year later, Watchmen in the background,
i felt my skin shredding, my freckles finding new pockets.
my knees were still bruised.

when i was 18 i fell in love with a boy who knew nothing,
except he had a fetish for Asian girls and not being able to
commit.
when he choked me for the first time i thought i died and for a minute
i was so
happy.

for two years he placed circles around my feet, telling me i was
beautiful, but never just beautiful
enough. when i told him to stop yelling, he said i was too
weak.

when i was 21 i fell in love with a boy who didn’t force anything
but love
and understanding. he took his fingers and place heart shaped
bruises, kissing my skin until i burned.

on nights i couldn’t breathe he’d take me to the window
and place his palms upon my cheeks. i found moths within
his hair, and instead of saying don’t cry, he wipe tears away
and hold my hand.

when i was 21 i finally found out that love is meant to spend sunday
mornings making love until your bodies end and begin end
and begin end and begin. and making breakfast is better
with his arms around your
waist.

21 and i am in love with a boy,
22 is around the corner, and i will still be
in
love.