things you say don't belong to me.

they
puncture
once,
just long enough to
feel
familiar
before
the
universe
carries
them
away.

please
be
real
because
i
dont
want
you
to
fit
another,

i don't think my bones could bear i t.

theyd crumble
blow
scatter

pile at your perfect feet.

what, in your life, has defined you?

i was laying on top of him and i said without thinking,
''my first love died of cancer
i have seen the empty body of a person i


thought would smile with me forever''

and also i know a lot of strong women

that is what defines me.

let
me
curl up next your fireplace heart.

                      i'll make it easy.
                      i'll love you for free.




i
already
do.

breath in the back of my heart where things hide

i miss riding my bike down 13th south listening to hip hop with my yellow dress flapping everywhere

i miss the moment when i couldn’t see the end of the irish sea

i miss the full moon in zion and swimming naked in a river

i miss twilight yoga where every part of me pulsed with the foggy coast and that beach i will always dream of


glimpses

of

*******

infinity.

what is your fantasy/?
a canyon, i say

****, he says
i think we might be meant to be
and i'm not saying that just because i am
drunk.

my pleasure pierces the cold, snowy streets through open window
as the deepest parts of ourselves mingle
i give him the ******* of the century
because we are practical and know that a baby born into this world
is a sad baby.

his
******
in my palm
is one of those moments you recall later on as

defining

as pure

as achingly beautiful.

burrowed into this summer solstice body that fits
he says,

i'm not letting you go anywhere.