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i remember the way love used to taste
it crept up my sternum, crawled up the back of my throat, strangled my tongue, and leaped out of my mouth with a trembling, shaking "i don't know how to feel like this anywhere else so please let me stay"
although there was an eviction notice stuck in between the door and the frame but i didn't open the door, to leave, to see it
and i used to look at people who could find something good and run from it and wonder how they could possibly do that when i ran to every doorstep, pleading for someone to let me in and planting my feet firmly into their ground as soon as they did
there are pieces of myself in every corner of these rooms, every crack in these walls, clumped in bathroom sink drains and i understand now
the more love you give that is unrequited, the less you have to give out again

and i'm only a few drunken, empty i-love-you's away from running dry
i need someone to come into my life and show me that there is a reason for all of this

also, i'm wondering how my family was completely demolished this week and i spent thanksgiving with strangers and have felt more lost and alone than i have in years, but this is all i can muster up: something about not being able to feel like i used to.

strange.
if you could see me right now,
you would ask me if i have slept in the 9 months that you have been away
you would tell me that i look like a store that won't close
you would tell me how different you are now and how much you've learned in your shaved head and caged windows
and when i reached to touch your face, you would say that you aren't there yet
you never belonged to me and you never will
but you still keep the guillotine in your bedroom
and the skeletons in your closet still have skin and hair and eyelashes that bat when you make a wish on one of your own
your laughter still doesn't travel like it used to and you don't smile unless you have to
and *******, i used to lay with all of the smiling parts of you
what a foreign memory

i sleep but not as well as i used to
i keep the lights on in hopes that they might catch your attention
and you're no different than you were
the last time you didn't belong to me
i had to go back and figure out how long it's been since he went to jail, and my heart sank when i came to the number nine.. i hope he's okay.
 Nov 2014 Megan Grace
brooke
this should
f e e l  l e s s
f  o  r  c  e  d*
you should
feel more
right
.
(c) Brooke Otto 2014

this is something I struggle a lot with.
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
 Nov 2014 Megan Grace
brooke
between psalm 1 & 2
I asked you what it was
like to confess without
a proper priest because
confessing to yourself
was more like admitting
and admitting was usually
an internal affair, something
that could be done without
much shame, after all, you
                                     could hear my thoughts,                          right?
well, I'm not entirely
sure that's all true
but I got down on
all fours with my arms
stretched as far as they
could go, head practically
between my knees and would
you believe, (You Would) that
I started to cry? Because, would
you believe, (You Would) that
for a moment you were there
with your toes at my finger-
tips.
written to Make This Leap by The Hunts
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