redspace

redspace Jun 2014

Seattle.

This is not a poem
It's a memory fleeting
I can't control this and
it's just eating and eating
away at my skin
and my bones
and my blood is boiling,
hot to the touch as you walk away from me.
Letting go, I've never iced over so fast.

You mean(t) everything to me, and I'm not sure how I'm going to handle this.

redspace Apr 2014

We're beyond this.

I believe in another life.
Something different than this.
Something more.
"We're beyond this", they say. "We're so much better than this."
But for what?
Go to school, get a job, make up a home and a spouse and a life..
But for what?
It all dies.
We all die.
We're all burdened in this life.
I believe in another way.
Something a lot like this.
But nothing more.
"I can't take this", we say. "I wanna end all this."
But for what?
I don't wanna die.
But I'm going to die.
I am bound by this life.

I believe in another me.
Maybe one that's doing a lot better somewhere else.

You're killing me, and you don't even know it.

redspace Feb 2014

Notch in the Belt

Your body will never be another notch in my belt.

Your lips are not on a list
with others I've kissed.
And this,
is bliss.
But only a temporary fix.
Because you still leave in the morning, but only after brushing that wisp
of hair from my eyes. Once I see you, a kiss
is planted on my forehead with "love" resonating in the air where your lips
dared to speak it. And I miss
you before you've closed the door, because remnants of you are on my wrists
where you wrote me sonnets as you held me the night before. We twist
and turn into each other, hands intertwined so tight we nearly draw fists.
Fingers trailing back and forth and I wish

I could tell you how much those moments mean, and how I felt
the first time you looked at me with that gaze and held
it as you loved me. Or was I just a hollow shell
or a momentary cell,
or even a wishing well,
for you to find the man you know you could be? I'd go through hell
just to sigh and say that you're not bad, you're not nothing, you're not.. well,
you're not all the wretched things she's tried to sell
as your label.. as the notch in her belt.

redspace Feb 2014

One better

If I could do you one better?
Well that'd just be the day.
I could finally be the last to speak,
or even the last to breathe,
hell, I'd freeze over just to feel that...
shiver.
You'd better grab your sweater.
If I could do you one better?
You might sit still and calm for once.
Instead of looking for a mind to taunt,
finding another flaw to flaunt,
"heavens no! I would...
never."
You always say, just as grey as the weather.
But if I could do you one better?
You would shrink, and you would sink, and you would sin and sigh,
"I've been waiting for this my entire life!"
We'd both know that's a ******* lie.
My eyes, like the earth and sky...
can see through you.
Yet to my heart strings, you will tether,
"You'll never do me one better."

It hurts me that you've always got something more to say. You can never just let something be. No one has their moment when you're around, because you've always got something better. Your life is always harder or your girlfriend is always hotter or you're the biggest loser. Good, bad or indifferent, you just have to be the best at it.

redspace Jan 2014

Twelve.

It should have been *****.
Like the beer cans littering the table
and their contents drowning our insides.
Mine flitting around like drunken butterflies.
It should have been *****.
Like the words we shared of exes
and the faces we made at the taste of the cigarettes.
After the twelfth, we all get a little restless.
It should have been *****.
Like the basement we slept in
and the hand-me-down mattress awaiting warm bodies.
Warmer yet with clothes gone, and you on top of me.
It should have been *****.
Like three hours before having joked about ***
Having looked across the table
I was no longer able;
to really look you in the eye because... it should have been *****.

Your face found my neck and those lips found my spark.
You kissed me long and hard like we were lost lovers meeting for the first time.
You grabbed me in such a way it felt as though I could float.
You felt each part of me as you asked me what I wanted.
You spoke to me sweetly and let it all unfold.
You'd rough me up and then lay me down.
And you laid me down.
And I'd drown.
In that beer, in those bed sheets, in those hips,
in those eyes.
You have the most lovely eyes.

But it should have been *****.
It should have felt like the beer cans littering the table
and it should have felt like their contents may still be looming
and it should have felt like that basement or that bed or those sheets.
But it didn't.
It felt like we'd been doing this for years.
It felt as though we were finally holding each other again,
instead of for the first time.
It should have felt ***** when you held me the rest of the night.
But when I woke to you kissing my head and pulling me back into your arms,
***** was the last thing on my mind.

redspace Jan 2014

Yes.

if I could speak my feelings
if I could just confess
I could kiss you more
and miss you less

but painfully I do regress
you leave me flustered
in a rise
a complete mess