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Liz Aug 2023
I feel it radiating in my finger tips
While a terror-stricken quiver
Turns in my stomach
And ascends to my throat
Until dread comes coursing out of my mouth
And shame soaks my cheeks.

Sometimes it seems
That I’m made of glass
And the resonant frequency
Of my foreboding observations
Is enough to make me fracture,
Sending broken pieces flying.

Now, my love I hope you know
That I’m doing everything in my power
To keep all my pieces together.
But doctors, pills, paintbrushes, and extra employment
Are not a substitute for your love.

It’s absence leaves a crack in my foundation
That nothing else can repair.
It’s shape, it’s depth
Are as exceptional as you.
So what crawls out of that cavern
Is a monster of seclusion,
Come to torture me with worry.

I had hoped that your love could reach me
From an ocean away.
I hoped that the fissure would not form,
And your love would not follow you
Across the sea.
But it has
And I’m splintering into ugly, pathetic pieces.

I know I require more than most,
But I know that what I require exists out there
In someone eager to give it,
Joyfully, lovingly.
You promised to be that someone
But your promises take no shape
Except in the letters
From which they are spelled.

So I will not keep begging for your love,
I will not keep letting your insufficient affection
Lead me to the edge of delirium.
I will not continue to weep
Over the inconsideration you have given me.

I know that what I require is out there
Bursting from someone
Who cannot help but to love me
In exactly the way I need to be loved.
Liz Aug 2023
From the corner of my eye,
I watched.
I noticed the way you lean in your chair,
The way you laugh like a storm in a drought.

Tilting your head back just enough,
Your bottom jaw protrudes,
Displaying your sharp chin.
You grin wide like the skies parting,
And closing your eyes,
Your shoulders shake like thunder.
You rain in drops of iridescence
That douse the fires in my arid attentiveness.

At the dawn of our day,
When I first began to know you,
Drinking too much,
Smiling at our fitful hands,
You carved out a piece of my being
And interred it within yourself.

This is not a complaint though.
I would give you every ounce of me,
Carved into whatever shapes suit your desires,
Whittling away at myself
With all the craftsmanship of Donatello.

With this piece,
You possess me completely
Everywhere you go.
Now you stretch my love across oceans
And my heart sets sail
In pilgrimage of you.

I’d drink every drop in the sea
And walk on its barren floor
To be close to you again.
I’d build a bridge of river-foraged driftwood
From my door to yours
Just to wrap my arms around you
For a moment or two.

But my body is already too saturated
With the sodden lamentations of missing you.
And I fear that I’m too weak with hunger
To carry all the branches and boards
Needed to raise such a structure.

So I will wait for you to come home.
And I wish I could say “patiently,”
But I’m fervent with longing
And frantic with grief.

But I will do my best to carry on.
I will paint, and smoke, and work, and cry
Until you’re home again.
Then I will hold you
And hold you and hold you and hold you,
Until we are stuck as one body
And you cannot escape again.
Liz Aug 2023
I wish I could believe you,
But I worry that sincerity cannot cross oceans.
And you can’t pack it up,
And send it home to me.

I wish I could keep my cheeks dry,
But I’m withering and wilting
And my eyes insist on self-watering.

I wish I knew how to tell you
That my lungs are stuck in my throat
And my eyes are swollen and sore,
Without it sounding like an accusation.

I wish that your absence
Wasn’t accompanied by heartache,
But I feel sick with desperation.

I wish you needed me
Even half as much as I need you,
But I’m as indispensable as an inkless pen.

I wish that my suffering
Mattered more to you than this expedition,
But I suppose that my suffering is steadfast
And no longer notable.

I wish you’d come home
I wish you’d never left
I wish you’d never leave again.
Liz Jul 2023
Infatuation seeps into me
And spills away.
A constant flow of desire,
It goes as fast as it comes.

You're a distraction that I don't mind losing myself in.
You're a beautiful view from my grey window.
A peripheral pleasure.

I try to keep you out of my mind
When you're out of my sight,
But you've found me in my sleep.
I keep wondering if I've made my way into yours.

And when you're in sight, you encapsulate my mind.
I let you dominate the few senses through which I can experience you
And I fantasize about how you could appeal to the senses that haven't experienced you.
Liz Jul 2023
I can't discern the reason,
But I've started contemplating my escape.
Not a thing has changed between us,
And yet my heart has gone cold.

But maybe that's the problem.
I shift shapes like water bends and twists
To make its way over rocks,
Under fallen trees,
To a sea of possibility.
And nothing between us has changed.

Your sweetness still sings.
Your love still finds shape in words,
Kisses, and touches.
I used to think that was all I ever needed,
But I'm starting to question my desires.

Lately my desires favor passing glances,
Coded messages, and working late.
My desire favors daydreaming
Of secret touches
And finding ways to get closer
To familiar faces full of seductive obscurity.

Maybe my desire just needs time
To find its way back to you.
I'm praying that it does.
Liz Jul 2023
My arms like vines,
I wrap myself.
White knuckles,
I grip my skin
Like the seat of a shaky airplane.

Holding tightly,
I try to steady trembling
That undulates through me.
The teasing provocation
And amorous taunting
Leaves me wanting today.

But I bite my wrists
To extract my attention
From my cavernous mind
And fix it on the skin about to break.

I'm itching for softness
To cover me like armor
And protect me from the jagged edges
That protrude in me.
I need some sweetness
To quell the bitterness
That saturates my mouth.

Be soft and sweet for me,
I know that you can.
Be tender and warm,
Or leave me to cry.

I'll constrict and wring it out of myself,
If I have to,
In time.
Liz Jul 2023
You feel like a warm day,
I feel like a burning building.

You shine and glisten,
I scorch and crumble.

You rise like the sun,
I detonate like a bomb.

You look like a rolling hillside,
I look like a blind cliff.

You go on for miles,
I’m a dead end.

You’re a gentle descent,
I’m an unsurvivable fall.

You sound like a country song,
I sound like an elegy.

You’re a sweetly ringing chord,
I’m a tearful, sobbing goodbye.

You’re a nostalgic love story,
I’m a painful flashback.

You taste like summer fruit,
I taste like rotting teeth.

You snap like a crisp bite,
I decay like a neglected body.

You grow and give,
I deteriorate and decompose.

You smell like warm bread,
I smell like burnt toast.

You’re a perfect morning,
I’m a worst nightmare.
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