Deana Luna

Deana Luna Apr 2015

you comfort me in my morning coffee
i feel you in this cold sip,
i take you in,
breathe in your aroma. your fragrant beans ground up just right for my consumption.
ground for my consumption.

i pretend we are unhealthy. i am selfish.
i pretend you were put on this planet just for me. just for me,
i breathe you in.
you are ground up just for me.
i feel you in ice crunched between my teeth.

i inhale sweetly. softly,
you are burning in the embers of what is slowly killing me.
but we are gentler than that.
you move slowly.
ask each passageway to my lungs for permission to take over.
you are a swift, smooth battle.
i am a blood-soaked battlefield.

when you go off to war i feel you humbly.
when you come back,
i welcome you to my long lost territories.
you gratefully plunge into them dropping deadly swords at our feet.
your tired eyes searching tenderly for mine.

it is only i who chronicles these hardships when the war has been long over.
carrying with me the scars, i can not help but rummage through memories of cold, icy storms.
you carried into this vessel your rubble. your cracks, your hollow, your own wars and hurricanes.
and i took on these disasters as if they were my own. birthed from my very limbs.
we are un-’s and we are re-’s. we exist within uncertainties and miscommunications.
we have and we are and we will.

#love

Deana Luna Mar 2015

ecosystems

little lamb doing wolf damage
you watch me like prey
mouth open. drooling.
eyes filled to the brim with hunger.
i am filled to the brim and you can see it.
i’m blushing. bleeding.
you peel me like a plum.
plump and juicy in your palm. ripened you roll me
between your thumb and your forefinger.
squeeze out every last drop of sweetness.
still drooling over me. i am drooling over you.
i want to be eaten alive. anticipating it. dripping.

i am a forest and snails make their sticky paths down my thighs.
i am a forest and leaves bloom and swish as my fingernails grow.
i am a forest and branches grow in every place you touch. i am so big so tall so wise.
i grow and grow with each caress. birds fly out of my hair and sing love songs. my feet heady soil i am grounded. finally grounded.
i am a forest and you’re a seasoned explorer.
i am a forest and you’re the tiger stalking within my lushness for something to devour.
devour me.

i am tropical. i am palm trees and rare fruit. i am sap in your palms sticky and staying.
i am sitting open. staying open. i feel you crouch behind my reeds. you dig your claws deeper into wet soil.

you watch me like prey.
i watch myself dribble down your chin.
i am tropical. plum sweetness juice juice sticky sweet staying on fingertips staining your mouth.
i am coconuts cracked open on rocks ready ready to be consumed.
i am licked clean from ***** fingertips.

Deana Luna Mar 2015

written in a january bath

if I take a bath it is because I need the sweat of you washed off my skin.
if this bath is concentrated with Epsom salts it is because they will physically pull you out of my system
- a detoxification of the memories of the way your head felt between my thighs/your hands creating fingerprint bruises on either side of them.
if I see you and run away it is because you draw out my blood and devastate my heart. there is no poetic way of saying this.
if I can not look you in the eye it is because being so close physically pains me. nostalgia beating down my chest and I have no choice but to selfishly grip onto any available flesh. I always regret it.
if I can not meet with you it is because you are the longest pain my body has suffered and for once my brain is working harder than my heart.

Deana Luna Jan 2015

Untitled

I can sit here. solid and still. soft as volcanoes. magma erupting from within but still as a lion waiting for a moment to strike. the patient immobility. statuesque. I let each word wash over me like an escalating thunderstorm. tender and brutal. each syllable a little more treacherous than the last until there are none left to speak— only the welcoming relief of silence. natural disasters come to mind. the heavy softness of the situation. the doughy snow outside. soft soft. the whoosh of cars operating within their own timelines. back to their lovers. faster. away from their lovers.
goosebumps like tiny mountains. the hardest paths to climb. entrapped by hook eyes. heavy eyes. I dare not lean over in fear of the glue slowly seeping from my cheek landing on your thighs. my lovers playfully name me lap princess. lip nymph. an inexplicable well of thunder. the holiness of steady rumbles. never-ending needy storm clavicles unfurling themselves. unruly at these raw routines. my bones are sewn together with electric wire and your words— wet knives cutting and destroying me.

Deana Luna Jan 2015

cancers

addictive hurricanes:

blow through my being

pull out every feeling in every crevice of my heart

don’t let me get away with it.

my protective iciness/i started off so strong.
glass being pushed and pulled by the salty ocean-- you lap me up and i let you. you ruin me. until i am nothing but grains in your palms. falling into and out of all your grips.

it is a dangerous thing to be anything at all around you.

******* cancer babes i could rant ~FOREVER~

Deana Luna Jan 2015

d/e/s/t/r/o/y

how many of his actions are calculated blows to my chest
how aware is he of his ability to destroy

how aware is he of his own destruction

Deana Luna Jan 2015

vagrant wanderers

ruins-----------
i am an abandoned village
the hairs on my arms standing up at the thought of discovery— tiny vacant towns
a fragmented ancient corpse found in the ruins of suburbia
i am a sight for sore eyes
i am a sight for the blind

and our tiny vagrant hearts
and our tiny vagrant hearts
wanderers walking into the moonlight