Popes weigh loomy on the chapel ground
By gardens delightful our ancestors found.
Brush thinned for us, yet the leaves of yore
We green lovers blissfully ignore,
Amazing our elders how such tyrants bore.
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."
We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.
I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.
I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.
Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
years of silence
it is time
to spread my wings
i am transgender
He’s had lives & loves before you
Remember that when the bricklayer or the mechanic
Asks for your hand
You’ll receive one flower
Instead of a dozen roses
Picked on his way home
Handwritten notes in your shoes
Instead of Hallmark greetings
Elaborate dinners cooked by him
Where he said he’d clean
Spur of the moment
Instead of planned vacations
The opening of windows
For the springtime thunderstorms
Listening to the beat of his heart
While the rain drops
He’ll write you with jazz playing
Wine in his bottle
Records in his head
Absorbing you into his world
And if he dies before you
And you bury him
And you mourn over him
Lasting for years
Remember his flower
His notes written just for you
And if you see his ghost
Then the Poet
Has fallen forever for
Some nights I peel off my face and hang up my despair. I paint on a new face maybe even draw a big smile, then I take some pictures and share some superficial giggles. When the fakeness fades, I come back home- I throw on my raw face, wear my comfy despair, and sit and sob for hours
#empty #fake #lost #sad
i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones,and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the,shocking fuzz
of your electric furr,and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh….And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new
I yearn for Silence every day,
Otherwise brimming with the noise
Of all those expectations.
How euphoric it is to sit in quiet,
With my tea cup,
The stack of letters laying ignored to my left,
And be in that liberating solitude.
To watch the wind rustle through the rosemary *** on the porch,
And be utterly nothing
There is no pantomime in the stillness,
No role to play in tranquility.
Shirk your persona!
Unshackle that heavy façade!
In the darkness we all release that sigh of relief,
Satisfied by the invisibility,
By the absence of another.
We are all ever our true selves in that wedge of silence
What if you loved someone who was
Across oceans and seas
As far away as far can be.
Would you still be able to write them prose?
If you can’t touch their fingers or toes or nose?
If you had to describe yourself
To someone you’ve never met,
And may very well never meet,
Could you be honest about what you see?
Would you give an accurate description
Or end up writing a piece of fiction?
Would you send the photo of you dressed to your best?
Or the one after you’ve finished a difficult test?
Would you feel obligated to impress
Or figure that your worst is probably also your best.
Could you be honest with who you are?
Because they live so very very far?
Just a little drabble i wrote after contemplating some things.
And for the first time in forever,
I danced alone in the kitchen at 1am
without the help of alcohol