A moment. An emotion. A thought. All of my poems are fragments, not quite complete, not quite from life, not always fiction.
Thank you all for your comments, compliments, and criticisms; I take them all into consideration when reexamining my poetry.
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You grow a mustache I'll buy a car We'll go cruising on Sunday afternoons My fingers in your hair Yours quietly crawling up my skirt
We can tell the neighbors there's a baby on the way But you'll say **** it all and get another tattoo My love inked across your arm And I'll sit amid the garden pansies Dirt between my toes and your laughter in my ears
When Christmas comes we'll hang lights Every color I can find Strung from every roof tile you can reach We'll be the best on the block Even when the neighbors complain in February
I'll wear a blue dress You'll take me out, best restaurant in town An anniversary in suburbia But we'll come home with bottles of *** Wake up on our own neatly mowed lawn
You won't wash the car I don't want to take any kids to school We'll get mad, get even, make up And do it all over again Make them all wonder where all this began
You and I could change our minds Go back to the start of it all Find ourselves with barely ******* entwined When it was still enough just to go For a five minute drive Your hand in mine.
& somehow you weigh on me again as i expect you always might. once you were soft clay in my hands then a hardened plaster when i could not breathe but time has dried you out and i remember a kiss but not your lips i remember the lightness behind my smile but not you as you were, are & somehow you weigh on my skin dried like dust and blowing away while I stand, warm in this summer wind.
White light like ice without the cold sun going down, down down on uncanny land mine is not kin but I remember lavender through glass snow I let burn a slow slow burn frozen flowers I thought would last and fear like slow blooming frostbite born in my belly bred in white, white sunlight falling now as it was and I was then.
the sound of the wind through palm leaves I miss shooting the breeze and you're the only one who fits with all the jagged bits of my everything California sunsets are the kind that encompass me I don't mind the sort of beauty that's seen I'm going where the sun touches everything but I'd rather be here where beauty seeps in where I can imagine more than sunlight on my skin I've got a window seat and a broken window screen and I can hear the leaves even when the window's closed