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michelle reicks Jan 2014
ten words
I simply can't
   escape you
but do I want to?

haiku
you caress my mind
delicately with soft words
    I miss your hands more

10 words
difficult to imagine
your grace and charm
wasted
               on Texas.

haiku
chairs and warm coffee
I sit obsessed with letters
your envelope, brown

10 words
I want you
to move back.
Home- be with me

haiku
I can't really press
you will make your own choices
But I stay hopeful.

10 words
maybe
someday
soon, you
will come back around this direction.

haiku*
confession of mine
I dream of your voice and hands
startled, awaken.


I've said some things
to you, in the past
in that space/time
     continuum that

have whipped me into shape

            why I thought
I could do better than
                               you

I have no idea


but I hope you dance
                    more now

      and I hope you
never lost your sweet
                            smile

Because when I can't
   sleep,      I
throw the blankets off of me,
and I think hard- imagining
a perfect relationship

                      and realize
that perfection does not exist

      but I always
think,
                     "I got pretty
close to perfect
             with you."
michelle reicks Dec 2013
where are you

the bees die one by one, i find them frozen on the windowsill
i wonder
if they loved me the way i loved them

i run to the mailbox day after day
and see if there is new love to receive

but what about the days when the bees die?

and there are no letters?

and where are you?
michelle reicks Oct 2013
i cried the other day,
laid my head down on the kitchen table and sobbed

no one was home.

no one was home.


i left wet drip drips on this piece of paper

where i was writing to you a letter
that started with
"Alex-"

and after three pages of anger and sadness
and "why are you doing this to me
why would you do this to me
right when i was finally going to be okay"

i ripped it up

and wiped my face

there was a pile of tissues, just like
all those days i cried in your room

when
you would try

try desperately to wipe away the tears


but we would always look
flustered and wet

like we had just run through the rain
michelle reicks Oct 2013
the last time we
****** was pumped
with passion and
there was an extra
flavor there that I
am now proud to
admit was
              awkward.

You pulled your laptop
into the bathroom
and the picture was
so blurry that
I couldn't really
tell if you were
biting your lip
or grinning
insanely.
I was twisting
uncomfortably
in my bed,
trying to pose in a
way that didn't
feel as though
my legs would go numb
and drop off my
hips in ****** apendages
but that also
didn't cause my stomach
rolls to emerge
in a way that
suggested I could
be popped into
an oven and devoured.

The time before that,
We were ******* each other
goodbye. There were
black make- up stains
on your dorm room
pillow and some mixed
smells of regret and
my **** juice. You tried
to reassure me that
we'd stay in touch-
that you would *******
call. I promised I
would try to feel better
about the situation

but promises are
meant to be broken,
especially if they're made
by 2 ex-lovers at
four in the morning.

The time before that
was make-up ***.
I never told you this,
but I wasn't really
sorry. I
think I needed to
get ****** by that
other guy
    to prove to myself
that I was worth
fighting for.
(Besides, it's
not like you and I
were still together.)

The time before
that was on a Tuesday
before we had to
go to class.
(I always sat in front
of you, and we
would pretend that
the other didn't exist-
but your deep voice
sweeping the floor behind me
made it very difficult)
I remember
smelling your armpit
on my hand, and
wondering why that smell
got me so excited.

The time before that,
we both begged the
other to make love
to our sweet aching
lonely bodies while,
outside, the kids were
smoking *** and laughing.
My hands burned like
hellfire against the
back of your neck
and that sweet
melancholy sensation
and questions formed
inbetween our teeth
Do you still love me
        what will this
look like, come tomorrow?


Then, the time
before that, I
was ******* you
while alone in the
privacy of my room
(you were asleep in your bed, I'm sure)

I sobbed,
tugging at my *******
in a frenzy,
plunging into myself
so hard that the
next morning, I was
sore when I sat
down. The way
I imagined you inside
of me, back home
again which I guess,
at that point, is
where I thought
you belonged.
But now, I guess
I'm not so
                sure


The time before
that, we
were falling apart
and we both
knew it. I
think I lay numb,
underneath you,
going through the motions
thinking Thank God for
muscle memory. Without
it, I would be as
much of a robot on the
outside as I
felt on the inside.
And that would be
a ****** way for you
to find out that
I didn't love you
        anymore.

The time before that,
we were drunk
you asked me
a thousand times if
I was sure I wanted
to. You even made me
promise I wouldn't regret
it in the morning.
But promises are made
to be broken, especially
if they are made by
two drunk lovers at
four in the
morning.


The time before that,
we were in your
back yard.
The moon shone down
on us through the
willow branches.
I heard crickets.
  Just the right
amount of tipsy
   both of us pulled
our pants down
past our hips,
     you placed your
hoodie under my
***. I breathed in
the smell of your neck
I pulled you so close
I could swear our bodies
were going to melt
into each other

and the time
before that

was in the morning on
a saturday
         I kissed you
softly awake, pressed up
against your hot
skin under the covers
I swore I loved you

              and the thing
I have so far failed to mention

                   is that I
                           still do
michelle reicks Oct 2013
so while the other boys
tug at my skirt,

           buy me beer,

write me songs

           I still mostly
      forget about them
                   when I go
          home at 1 in
                              morning.

But you,
            for some reason

get my hopes up
                in the worst way.


When the rain falls
                and thunder strikes
                    my tired
                               red head


I still wait for

                       the mail to come.


No letters from
                     You yet,


but I can't tear
    my eyes away
          from the mailbox


      Because,

                      I guess that
              would mean



                            giving up hope

                                                 all over again.

And
            
I don't think I
                could do it twice.


I don't think I could let you break me

                         a second time
michelle reicks Oct 2013
we
        push against each other'

       wanting to be held

       the way someone else
                                   held us
                         a long time ago.

and with every
              drunk kiss

             every stupid television
                                                show
                                            we watch
                                               on your sunken couch

every joint we smoke

          you push my unanswered questions

back down my throat

with the tips of your
                       fingers


you make me forget

                that I once
                      loved someone else.


in fact,
                               maybe you make
                                    me forget
                                                 everything



                      until I feel numb.


And maybe,

               just maybe,



                     that's exactly what

                            I wanted you to do
michelle reicks Oct 2013
All
That I can
do is smile as
I look at you, and
this pen runs out of ink.
You make me feel so warm inside,
so wholesome - so worthwhile - so
meaningful. Love is such a wonderful
experience. I close my eyes + I don't
see anything, but I feel everything. Moments
like these, I never want them to end.
I can't think of a good metaphor
to describe how my heart feels, but I'll
try my best to explain: it feels round,
heavy -  full with caring, the desire to share.
It wants so badly to
touch yours. I
feel so incredibly
wonderful.
Thank you.
i did not write this poem, nor do i take credit for it.
i simply transcribed it, because it was a very nice memory.
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