i can still feel the tiny feet
of the static that
was running marathons when we first kissed.

i can still feel your burning
touch against my skin
and the times you
slipped your tongue in-

i can still feel you in colors like
lavender and grey
the silkiness of the sheets
the hex your body placed upon me.

i can still feel you like
a tug at my entire core.
i am always the one
who wants more.

i feel like my heart is drooping
weary like a wilted flower
and i am thirsty for your touch.
you left me
alone and unravelled on my
twin sized mattress
all so i could remember how
bad i was at stopping myself
from falling in love.

there are borders that i draw
and fences that i build
to keep these things from
falling out,
to keep myself from falling down.

so i wont dry up and wither
when i am waiting for your touch.
when i am waiting for your love.

you could calm a storm with your tongue*


i wanted to get your face just right with my words
but sometimes i was left speechless by the look
you got in your eyes and the sunlight that
poured through your lashes.
i think
beaches would push the ocean back just
to get that kinda warmth. just to get
that kinda light.
the kind that pours out from your eyes.
you see i tried to find the words to get
your face just right but the syllables were cheeky,
teasing me at every corner
when i thought i knew the best thing to say
to talk about your face.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when i licked myself
off of your lips.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when i traced the back of
your knees with my fingertips.

maybe you didn’t feel it
when you rolled over in the
morning and saw how well we fit.

i knew it when you
picked the eyelash off my  
cheek because it felt like a kiss.

i knew it when you
took the long way home so there’d
be a few less seconds to miss.

i knew it when you
would wake up and leave me because
my heart would contort into a fist-

all so i’d never have to let you go.
but you would never know.

There was no better place
for me to stay
than at the bottom of
your “to do” list.

But the single fact that
you took the time to
pen me in through
the various instances
of your day.

Well.
That’s love enough
for me.

art keeps getting
smaller and smaller
like we have
less and less time
to really create a body
of work strong enough
to break through the
barriers of the mind.

i can make a list of
the people i have kissed
and call it poetry for days i can
write an anthem on **** culture
with words i do not understand
or use

and judge my creativity
based on all my views.

there is never the right time
to sit down and syphon the
truth from your palpitating heart.
sometimes you find the time
in between the spaces of
the mundane and draw
or paint or
film or
write

something that will
take someone’s breathe away.

even if it is your own.

there is no easy way to
make a lasting impression
on a soul you don’t quite
know or understand.

but

if your heart feels lighter
at the end than when you began
then you are making

progress.

we are driving through lindale texas
and you are holding on to the bottle at your feet
harder
than you have ever held my hand

the times you smile at me, it does not touch your eyes
the moments your hand glides past me are merely accidents
when you look at me what do you see?

is it the
chances you saw yourself miss or
the mistakes you made unraveling in front of you again

we are cut from the same cloth,
because something in our DNA
and something in the heavens agreed
yours were the assets i would need
to survive.

we are driving through lindale texas
and you are muttering about a missed bill or two
and i’m just happy to be so close to you