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Frankie T Sep 2013
I want my heart to be twice as big
as my body.
i want to fly you to the moon
and kiss you
on the moon
and pretend that we are lunatics
and pretend that we are martians
i want to have a picnic on the moon with you, to
play hide-and-seek in the craters
cuddle straight through a fourteen-day lunar night.
i want us to be so bright that we glow;
i want my heart to be seen from outer space.
Frankie T Sep 2013
what matters: your arms
these lips
our palms together;
laughing,
soft skies,
the sweetness.
ta voix
tes yeux
tes mains
tes levres
empty cupboards are filled
empty stomachs become full hearts
in this space with you
i am never hungry.
...we  were happy.
Frankie T Aug 2013
who are you at six am
twisted soft into your bedsheets
face pressed into the pillow
half-asleep, sleepy          night-dust settled into your eyelids
I am not a poet, a dancer, a murderer
at six am
sleeping by your side I am only a human being
I only want what I have
right here.
Frankie T Aug 2013
take it at face value
2. feel it.
3. notice the hidden allusions. poets work ******* those.
4. apply it to personal experience
so it means something to
you.
5. don't ******* analyze the author's psyche.
seriously.
6. cry over it, float in it, smile through it
7. show it to someone else
8. don't tell them about it until they've read it
9. tell them what it meant to you.
Why is the first "1." missing?
Frankie T Aug 2013
you were my Snow White baby
locked, pressed into sleep
with apple slices stuck in your throat
i prayed at the altar of your nightstand, an offering every morning:
pictures          chocolate           small dolls i sewed from scraps
in the middle of the night, sitting by your bed when i couldn't sleep

i read to you, just in case
you could hear. once
i held a mirror above your mouth, because
you were so still           your skin was molten, crackling with heat,
a jumble of just-hardened lava bones
bright cherry mouth, cheeks blooming          but so pale.
my Snow White baby, i didn't know if a prince would save you
but i wanted to be your knight in armor. i wanted to armor you--
but you can't protect against attacks from the inside

i remembered months before, lying in the grass with you
          sunlight           reading books in trees
muddy, you fed me croissants mashed in your fingers
and oranges that fell from the branches. how precious i held you,
your tiny body braved against mine, the smallness of you in my arms
we were children then.

that Christmas you woke up for just long enough
to crawl from your quilt-nest
and sleep instead under the christmas tree

your fever-sweat and the coloured lights
made your skin into rainbows
i remember thinking how magical you were, how
much i'd miss you
if you never woke up.
It took me a long time to write about this. I want to do it as a spoken word but I get too emotional.
Frankie T Aug 2013
she sighs.
he left his ritz crackers in the back of my car.
he loves his ritz crackers.

he probably does not care that much
about crackers.          she buries her face
in his favourite shirt, picks
his boxers off the floor          stretching the waistband--
look at this skinny boy.
holds the clothes as if they are the outlines of a body
          ghostboy.
this is a song, she says, turning up the music,
about being in love with a ghost.
My best friend and her perfect boyfriend are going long distance this year.
Frankie T Aug 2013
****, jesus
they call it
the passion of the christ
those muscles and don't-care hair
stretched out for us and our Sins
and who doesn't like a bit of rough-edge stubble?

they call it
blasphemy
i say
let him come to me
that i may feel him upon my breast
if you know what i mean.
the elderly women at church says when Christ comes
we must be upon our knees.
gladly.
****, jesus.
you're the first nice boy
i ever wanted bad.
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