You smile at me
through Your tears
and in Your pain
assure me i will
get better too
because You're
the type of person
to have so much light
even the plants want to grow
toward you.

there is fire in a woman
in the words she utters, spilling like a river from lips that know pain and hurting and still curl into a smile that reaches further than her cheeks
there is fire in a woman
in her art
and ‘art washes away from the soul the dust of life’
and often i wonder what it would feel like
to make her body my canvas
let my lips write words on her skin that they could never speak
into the small spaces that lie in-between what i envision our twisted limbs would look like
there is fire in a woman
in her touch, at least i’ve dreamed it so
spent nights, half asleep envisioning what her fingertips would feel like against my skin
or twisted amongst my hair.
i dream of cups of coffee in the morning
that she’ll make me
only to go cold and sit half drank upon the table beside us
because they will never be as caffeinated as her
i’ve spent countless nights alone
with my palm placed heavy upon my chest
checking that the dull thud of my heart still exists
and i wonder what it would feel like
to have the fire that is a woman next to me
and i wonder if i wouldn’t need my palm to check i existed
i wonder if it would feel like dreaming
or if i’d finally feel alive.

You wanted a love like in the movies;
rain drenched white shirts, palms covered
in daisy pollen; I love you more than--
a phone call, long distance, your fingers
curling the telephone wire like you're pulling me
towards you
like a fibre optic pheromone.
Soundtracks of a jazz piano, and old jukebox hits,
flared skirts and Mary Jane shoes, square dancing.

But most of the time, we don't get to choose
the colour of the bedsheets. In this story,
I know you're going to leave me. I can sense
the zoom of your eyes, rolling away from me.
The lighting in the room, like the ones where something
awful is about to happen: a sad, sick orange
like a cheap sunset; the music, or lack thereof,
the way you bite your lip like you're about to
break my heart.

You look to the ground, and I know this is where
the narration will start;

this is the story of the first time
someone broke my heart.  
She's going to look up at me
and say the words,
It's all over-

and in a jump frame
the thunderclap will mask the sound
of my heart shattering, the sob disappearing
into my throat.

You wanted a love like in the movies,
honey,
we all did.

But then the rain came, and the flowers
drowned in their beds.
You left your umbrella by the doorstep,
I hope you don't catch a cold.

if god is a woman
then i'd love to crawl inside
her womb and feel regeneration
feel the cosmos sparkle
in the sweat between her thighs
know what it is to taste creation
is this blasphemy? indecent?

if i am a woman then
why can i not love the power
she has gifted my body
in the marrow of my bones
layered gently in my curves
her names multiply
between these two lips and
i'd love to hear her whisper-

how very much the world needs her
patient, fiercely love-filled
vocal cords that sing our memories
into existence; her hair is
the curtains dividing the seas
of night & nature & the blood in us all

she weeps when we spill it
every ruby drop is falling from her lips
we break her bones when
we dig into the earth, ****
her precious body and destroy
the bounty that she's given us
but still does she love us?

she is more than mother,
than lover and artist,
fire-haired horizons and
opal eyes that span the skies

i love her with everything i have
is she listening to us now?
she makes me nervous,
how she sits naked in the heart
pregnant with our destinies
endlessly listening to our songs
of pain & lust & death's grinning hatred
and quiet, she is still in my soul.

I hope you know I will not tear my insides up for you and succumb to a void of nothingness just to gain a sense of recognition from the limited care you implemented upon me.

I will no longer stay up and spend endless hours deciding if I want to text you apologies or call you at midnight and tell you I miss you because I know you will pick up and your mind will already encompass a sense of pride and confidence that you’ve won the battle over me.

I will show you that I can be okay without your poisonous tongue that rejuvenated the scarce nothingness of the meanings you dreaded to say as in such a way that your fake promises could actually heal the pain that already dwells within my heart.

I will spend an infinite amount of days fighting the images of us actually being something and I will learn to forgive you for your double edged sword that you pierced within both of us to make sure that your mark shall be made to all who dares to even try to love me but only to be disappointed by the hallow form that you’ve created.

I don’t care if it takes years for me to actually love myself again after the damage you’ve done but it will all be worth it because I’ve realized that there is someone out there who just might be gentle enough to help me heal my own wounds and to be the support I needed when I couldn’t breathe on perilous nights that seemed endless.

You may have sparked a fire, and it may have burnt more than actually lit the darkness but now it is igniting like the sun and this passion will continue until I am ready to accept that you were just another stage in my life that was meant to be torn away carefully and placed somewhere that I will soon forget it even existed.

I will love myself again and I hope you learn the weight of your actions and your words that have swallowed up innocent souls that just wanted to be set free.