The next time you touch my thigh
Remind yourself that it's only a taste
The breast, ankle and lamp shade eyelids
are breakfast if you want them to be
I could kiss the romance of other women out of your mouth if you want me to
Milk bones, quail fingers and brown coating
are lunch if you want them to be
I could replace your spine with a magnolia tree but only if you want me to
Roasted brown eyes, ocean deep belly button and wheat *******
Afternoon anatomy
The taste often ruins the feast

dating a writer
is like guessing the weather.
you think you know what you'll get,
but you never do.

you never know
because

she'll create a hero
from your weaknesses

and she'll write a great character,
from every last flaw.

she'll create a thousand plots  
from your worst nightmares.

she'll take every last thing you hate
and create something you'll love.

she'll turn your anger
into confessions of adoration,

and she'll make you,
everything you're not.

but worst of all,
she'll leave you wondering-
is it you she's in love with,
or things she's created from you?

but here's the beauty of it:

if you date a writer,
you'll never die.

I need something tonight
Something that isn't gentle.
I need teeth leaving marks on my flesh.
A hand pulling my hair.
I need a wall against my back.
Arms to lift me, bend me, control me.
I need to battle.
To hurt.
I need someone to moan in my ear.
To scream.
I need bruises and aches.
I need to wake up tomorrow hurting.
To see the evidence of beautiful violent passion.
I need to be painted black and blue.
I need to feel.
Oh God I need to feel.

We sat in bathtubs in rundown motel rooms
I told him stories of my mother
He told me he'd never been in love
I noticed his uneven breathing
The way his chest fell a little faster
The way his eyes didn't have much glimmer
The faucet was dry
The bathtub was empty
We floated anyway
On broken promises
Taunted memories
Unspoken names
I saw every drop of blood
I saw every tear
I let him rest his weariness on my lap
I poured my attention into his flaws
Crooked teeth
Lopsided chest
The way his forehead wrinkled
Those were the things I remembered the most
When he left
I never loved him
He never loved me
But it was close
And it was tantalizing

They told me
It was as if
Life loved me;

But I told them
That life is an unfaithful lover;
It only cares for you
When you are at your happiest
And seems to put you down
At your worst.

The secret
Is to love life
Even through the times
When the love seems unrequited.

Every time I rest my head on his chest, I could hear echoes of all the people who had let go.

Your sister heard your laugh
The dog stared long into your room
The tree cast a shadow
that looked just like you

Pandora played your song,
out of sync with the station that was on

Your sheet music is on the top of the pile,
Inside the piano bench

My tea tastes sweet this morning.
Like there are two sugars instead of one,
The way you like it.

Yesterday, we visited.
We brought flowers and treats
Sang songs, told stories, and cried

Perhaps, today, it’s our turn

I’m no Alice in Wonderland,
But I am more like the Cheshire Cat,
They say I am more deranged
Than the Mad Hatter’s hat,
They say I can be quite rude
Like the Queen of Hearts
And like the March Hare
I sometimes nervously fall apart,
I’m no caterpillar
Blowing smoke rings
But I might as well be same to them all,
Because I’m madly curious about things.

Keep on walking
I can recognize you from the crowd
Stop and look back
Now do you see?
What do you think of me?
Do you even know I think of you?
Things, they are overflowing my mindful cup
Would you have the time?
I may not know you,
You may not know me.
Open up, that's what I'd want to do
My lips are sealed.
All of these are in my mind.
My heart is in my pocket
Skipping a perfect beat.
There are quite a few I wanted to tell you.
But all of these are in my mind.