memories:
a half-drank bottle of *****. the taste of something foreign on my lips, soft and bittersweet like the fog in my brain. the realization that love is something you can never touch.
i can feel it on my fingertips like thimbles and glue, heavy and obstructive. weighted down with shower water and the scent of your shirt. i breathe it in. it tastes like ******.
i inhale hair pins. i take it all in, buzzing and whirring like an ******, all soft and fluttery between your thighs, i will never speak of this again.
i will carry this on my back until it breaks my collarbones.

returning to wonder of everything
when constellations sing a song
I find rhythm
it has a lot to do
with the stars
the way they can burn in men
in different points in my body
your body
even our bodies can be firm, placed heavy on beautiful earth
as we reach station to station
and my hands
even in pain
I still am happy
it has a lot to do with love
I am whole

I know I will live now
when I love the rain again
I find rhythm
of course it has a lot to do
with water
I drink from the well
the way a river extends to my fingers
and flows in my head
pure, and clear, lifegiving in its touch
waking to dreams and oceans
her body a still pool
even in pain
I will always be
it has everything to do with love
I am whole

I can't write
I actually physically can't
OK
OK how about, something with flowers
Not like that's been done 1000000000 times
I swear to god anymore similes and I will

punch

my

own

esophagus

This is terrible
OK ummm
Fish tanks?
Fish tanks aren't all that poetic
I can't think of anything
I think I'm dried up
Like an empty...
Fish tank
******
Wait a minute
What if I just write something about
Not knowing what to write
That would be easy
It also explains why this *****
******

pull you close
grab my waist
rest my hands
on your face
kiss you slow
close embrace
lift me up
wearing lace
hands will drift
press and trace
melting with
the sweet taste
love on lips
time to waste
you and i
in this place

s.s