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Nella Nov 15
sometimes I wonder about you--

when it's late and I can't hide from the moon.

it's a one-sided text conversation,
our fear of death prematurely evaded.
song after song,
note after note,
I fell in love with self-deprecating jokes.
you were ahead of the curve,
every pattern and trend--
I've felt lost ever since film became cool again.

No discernible personality traits to adopt,
I floundered alone, I stood just to drop.

I missed drinking you in,
being your muse and your friend.
I kept your secrets and held all mine in.

Envious of your whiteness and perfect-familiness
you'd say differently, but I saw what it is.

privilege and love,
friendship I craved--
at the cost of some trauma
I'll take to my grave.

But still you had more
than I ever might,
and for that I'd trade
all our long sleepless nights.

I'd rip away all my studying of your world--
to become lost in my own,
so I didn't have to be that girl

that had to be pretty
to be a muse,
so you'd stick around,
and I'd always lose.

you make me sick
when I think of your hands
the way they could hold me
and steal all my air--

and I'd let you,
just as easily,
you'd feel the crunch of my bones--
annoyed that they poked you
and satisfied with my moans

writhing in pain,
swearing I'm not,
begging you to photograph me
covered in rot.

green from the nausea,
golden jealousy--
I kept running so that you'd chase after me.

Supporting your escapades,
girlish advice-- "no this is what you should get her! it will be nice!"

planning your dates,
practiced your lines,
I had stars in my eyes,
yours were red from the high.

I admonished your ****** roommates,
first-world and nuanced
too-much-too-late--

sealed and delivered,
I wish this could go back in time
to your doorstep where I
hung out all the time

sitting with the paper,
copying a pose from your lover--

I stalked her instagram and ran for cover.
She stared and mocked me-- "He's mine forever"
Her perfect pout practiced, while I sat and pouted about
you merely glanced.

Measuring down and counting how much lower my score was--
I knew how it would go but still I bet on my odds.
because the idea of being with you made me feel drunk--
I never knew when to quit
pushing my luck.

and on your lifeless body,
CPR with ghostly arms,
killing myself slowly
while you pursued new hobbies.

transported to another dimension
where you can't hear my cries--
nothing plays but your music,
as I struggle against our severed ties.

you left marks,
which you liked--
I knew as much about your kinks as your quirks,
Crude and contrite,
Pinked and perked.

I remember how you'd sing for me, twirl me around,
the neon lights in your kitchen,
the air mattress we found
and wore in nicely,
spent nights on cement clouds
whispered inside jokes and screamed obscenities
at unsuspecting crowds.

your shyness, my courageousness,
your smile and my smirk,
your compartments for my mess,
You promised your best and gave me the worst.

Shorted and barren,
walk-of-shame, scarred larynx--
no one would know of the desert we walked
the girls you ran through and
the way that we fought

kisses on white sheets,
made up in my mind,
your skinny body under the suds,
marked up flaws that I'd find--
I was sure to sit carefully,
wipe them away,
run the tap for the bubbles,
you'd soak and I'd bathe

until you were ready,
pruned and eyes-heavy,
I'd help you step out,
you'd fall into my body--
I'd guide you to the floor
where we'd sit for hours.
you'd hug me and drain me,
your special power.

I'd guide us to bed and you'd lay on my chest,
smiling up at me,
you'd earned a rest.

just one of many
memories
I stole from your place
and put them in a cardboard box--
gone, without a trace.
Nella Feb 23
How difficult it is,
to wrap our minds around what most certainly
“cannot be”.

How quick we are
to deny what they believe.

So dismissive in nature.

Holding tightly to the teachings we absorbed,
when our eyes were so wide
when our minds were so feebly molded.

We were so young.
We just wanted to belong.

But our scopes narrowed on fallibility,
and we began to laugh at the heretics for their ridiculous blasphemy.

Isn’t it so obvious they are wrong?
Isn’t it so obvious that we aren’t?

They versus Us. You opposite Me.

Brushing off the false teachings,
Hushing the proclamations of false prophets.

Onward we proceed, towards the Holy Land.
Our fastidious pilgrimage, we would give anything to be just.

We gave up everything to be right.
  Jun 2018 Nella
James M Vines
The cover is cracked and worn. The pages have turned yellow with age. The tear stains mark the pages that were read most often. The name of the book has faded and only the word holy remains. Inside of the cover, those who were redeemed and those who have gone are written. Four generations have dog eared the pages and yet the words can still be seen. Just like Jesus my old bible has been broken, so that the world could not break me.
  May 2018 Nella
Jay Wasnothing
this morning
as i groggily rolled onto my back
and felt the weight of the blanket draped across my body
i briefly thought you were lying atop me
my face buried in your shoulder
my lips gently pressing against your neck
and then quickly gravitating downwards
repeatedly kissing the spot where your neck and shoulder meet
so as to make you shiver against me
and smile brighter than the morning sun
snuggling against me more
so that i could wrap my arms and lift my legs around you
both of us sleepy but bathed in the morning light

and so i laid there
for two minutes past my alarm
lost in the everlasting euphoria that just the thought of you can bring
wishing that maybe
just maybe
i was only dreaming that you weren't there
  May 2018 Nella
Mary-Eliz
He was just thirteen,
still a child,
when he lost his leg.
A tent pole from
a church revival
crushed
the life out of it.
I remember hearing
stories...
gangrene,
doctors having to wait
too long...
something about my grandfather...
they couldn't find him
or
he wouldn't sign
papers.

I'm not sure.
The memories of the stories
are fuzzy.
I just know
my daddy had a wooden leg.

It was his right leg...
I think.

We took it for granted.
It seemed so normal,
his prosthesis.  We never
called it
that...
prosthesis.
It was his
wooden leg.

You might not expect it,
with a wooden leg and all,
but my daddy was
a great dancer.
Light as a whisper.
When he danced,
nobody knew...
about his leg.
And those who did know
forgot.

I can see him gliding
around the dance floor
with my mom in his arms.
They were as one,
swaying and moving
with the music.

Sometimes...

I got to dance with him.
I remember it so well.
I can close my eyes
and
feel the smooth
polished floor
under my feet
and
my daddy's strong
arms around me.

When I danced
with my daddy
I was secure
and
confident.
I felt graceful
and
flowing.
He guided you,
smooth and easy,
so natural.
I can still feel the lilting rhythm.

Now

I'm not a great dancer,
though I'd like to be,
but
when I danced
with my daddy
I could dance.
I was agile
             and fluid
                    and free.

I skimmed the air.

'Cause even with
a wooden leg,

my daddy,

he sure could dance.
This is a "rerun" but some things I've been reading and writing made me think of my daddy, feel nostalgic. He's been gone a good while as he died too young, but I hope he and my mom are still dancing somewhere!
  May 2018 Nella
Chris Bee
******
or
date

either way, I win
  Apr 2018 Nella
James M Vines
Dew drops fall upon radiant skin, as the morning light breaks the horizon. I lay between supple breast content in lifes rapture. After the veil of night wrapped us in it's shroud, our passion was as a brief burning star. Now that I have walked in your fertile garden and planted a seed, I am comforted in your arms. Skin on skin our bodied share a radiant glow. All of my burdens have melted away and you are now my only desire. In a few brief moments, we have torn down all barriers and you have become the vessel of our future. So as I lay with you, I listen to you breathe as life takes hold from heated passion, as the morning gives way to day, all I know is that I am where I long to be, simply in love with you.
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