Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Kristen Ordonez Aug 2014
When I shun from your grasp, it not because your touch hurts me
My fingers have just been frozen for too long
When your gaze and mine do not meet, it is not your eyes that frighten me
It is the kindness in them that is too difficult to swallow
When your laughter flutters happily between us and I don't speak,
My words tend to struggle--flee---escape
When I tell you a future together terrifies me,
It isn't because there isn't enough love between us
There is not enough love between Me and Me
love fear relationship him kindness
Kristen Ordonez May 2014
I need a tutor, I think you'd be perfect
What am I failing in? A few subjects
(I'm kind of a mess...)
Geography and art, mostly
But seeing you here, in front of me,
I know you're perfect

We'd be great at geography
I want to map out your landscapes
Out of the air
The slopes of your shoulders, the dips from bone to bone
The hills of your arms that can cradle me easily
Wrapping me in the warmth that belongs to this world of yours
The ridges in your spine are stones across a soft sea
My fingers can jump from bump to bump-
Traveling shore to shore-
Without losing a breath

You'd help me out a lot in art,
All I want to do is photograph
These new marvels I see
The deep creases near your eyes that grow with laughter
Your eyes themselves,
Beads of pure light that flow into me
I can't escape their gaze, nor would I want to

Mapping out this world that lies within my grasp
Would be the greatest adventure
Feeling everything-
From the sole to the soul,
Engulfing myself in this new culture
called Love
It sounds familiar, but I've never experienced it
Only heard of or seen
You seem fluent in it, though, willing to try
Want to show me around?
I'm a faster learner, and I think
You'd be a great teacher
Kristen Ordonez May 2014
I'd rather listen to the echoes of lyrics than the broken beats of my heart.
Limitless nights spent listening to harmonies are sweeter than thinking about a left-heavy mattress. My ear-buds fit comfortably, filling my head with sound, better replacements than a hand that no longer fits.
The chords carry me places where memories carve out pieces of me and hang them on the wall. The jagged edges drip with the feelings I couldn't express, and showed the tattoos of those that I did. They weren't understood, just ignored. But the lyrics, the sound, the energy, they take out the nails from the shredded parts of me, they sew up the wounds he gave me till the rushing stream stops and I can move, the pain lessens, with every song

— The End —