I’m a freckled 5'5'' solider.
I like wrestling with my dogs so that my jeans retain a layer of fur -
even if they were my favorite pair, I will wear the hair with pride.
...but I wear make-up to make up for the way I lose my face
looking in mirrors, measuring my stomach by fingertip lengths,
wondering how the 5th grade girl who’s lungs wanted too much air
would care about the way I carry my chest now:
like a treasure that’s been too long held under the sea
If that girl could see me, she’d write an entry in her Lisa Frank diary
about hope, instead of fear, rejection, fear of rejection and God -
I remember praying God would change me and I’m so glad he didn’t.
I’m glad that I got the chance to do this one on my own.
I have grown into a person, with a weird shaped head and too small feet,
with a spotted heart that finds ways to beat.
For those who call me damaged, including myself (mostly myself) -
like hell.
I’m still as completely as valid as a function as I was
as a small purple infant with light blonde fuzz
I was what I was and I am what I’ll be:
a freckled 5’5’’ ocean tide, shifting into me.

Freckles are memories
One big night sky
They all come together to form a life
One constellation
The most important of them all.

I’d never noticed the
Freckles
On your
Shoulders.
But then again,
You’d never noticed
The scars.

Specifically
The ones
On my chest,
And if you had,
I’d never
Heard
Anything about them,
Or, “it.”

It had been awhile since we’d
Last crossed paths,
Encounters always
Ending in
Collision,
Connection
And corrosion come the first
Morning after; but welcomed.

You looked good though,
And that’s how it’d always
Started,
But beautiful nonetheless  –
A world-weathered skin
In the form of a twilight tan,
The vulnerable smile
With a small curl displaying

Aggressive sexuality,
And a dress, your cloth,
A critical juncture,
Of both cinema and satori,
A’flutter in the wind.
“Gift-wraps,” aside,
I’d always return to the
Form and curve of “You.”

Simply you
The half I could see
Leaving the other
Somehow elusive side of
You
To my imagination and
Memory
Of prior gallantry.

Unspoken words
Pave paths between the
Tables we now occupy.
So to,
Acts of predation await,
Perched and ready for
Gardens,
Accepted, the resulted chaos.

I wonder,
“What’s she thinking?”
As I capture a wink
And steal the sunlight
Bouncing of her
Shoulder’s freckles.
It’s an intoxication
At its finest.

Accordingly,
I sip my
Beer
And in echoes mumble,
“I want you, want you,
Want you.”
Luckily,
You wanted me too.

i like my mouth when its with yours
the way my lips seem so soft and alive
& how i smile when your mouth presses against mine

i like my hands when they're with yours
intertwined as if they belong there
& how my stubby fingers don't seem all that stubby when they're locked with yours

i like my legs when they're with yours
when we're lying in bed, i can drape mine over yours
& not for a second feel as if they're too heavy or too large

i like my freckles when they're with yours
when our faces are pressed together, they match
& its like a map which leads from my cheeks to yours

i like my nose when its with yours
the way our noses bump ever so lightly
making me smile everytime they do

i like my toes when they're with yours
the way i have to get on my tiptoes to reach you
& the struggle to reach your lips makes them all the more desirable

i like my voice when its with yours
its a sweet melody, the two of us laughing together
makes me wish we'd never stop talking

i like who i am
when i'm with you
because you make me feel
as if i am loved
as if i belong
as if i am cared for
as if i am significant
you make me feel
as if i am someone
in this world
where everyone feels
like a no one

hemmingway was right to say:
*"i like my body when it is with your body"

Freckles on your face,
Sunshine in your smile,
Promises made on your pinkie,
Memories in your mind,
Steps taken with your soles,
Hands are being held,
Adoration gleaming in your eyes.

Green dances like waves around her wide pupils, eyes lashes like curved feathers graze the top of her eyelid.

Flaming orange spirals from her beautiful mind down to the end of her back.

A canvas
Her face resembled as the flecks of freckles formed a gorgeous piece art.

Her body was as though it was sculptured carefully to put on display in greek goddess section of the museum

Sadly it wasn't
Instead her body was forcefully abused and harmed as it wasn't societys shallow idea of beauty

She wasn't tan
She wasn't blonde or brunette
Just a pale ginger.

She considered herself to be hideous

She became weak
Vunerable
Easy

It wasn't her fault
She needed the money
She lacked self esteem
And so selling her body gave her the worth and attention she never had.

Beaten
Hurt
*****

Her life was gone
The green waves in her eyes stop dancing
The lashes were now harsh lumps of dried mascara
Her beautiful hair was bleached blonde, frayed and cut.

And her body was now just another puppet to an old mans torture.

Your mosaic soul shows cracks, shattered glass,
jagged on the edges
and red where your pricked your fingers trying to pick them up.
I see pieces putting together something greater.
your water color freckles,
splattered over pale skin.
I'd compare them to the constellations, but those are just shapes
and the path im tracing with my fingers tells me much more.
there's no dawn in your golden brown eyes,
the sun I see shinning through stained glass is too bright to be just barely rising.
you are reckless laughter caught in a shutter
a frame by frame moment of the last trickles of childhood
blackness blurring the edges around you
from being left too long in the developer.
your lips feel like oil pants,
sliding over mine like a blank canvas,
I can still see the masterpiece you made me into.
I can still feel the whips of graphite tears pouring down your cheeks as you let all of the art you hold inside.

Feet pressing
into soft ground.

Bits of wet soil
paint our sandals.

With the incline
rises my gaze.

Mud spots legs
and freckles appear.

A smile touches within
seeping out.

Receded then as
a spring in cold months.

Suds soon would
wash away the
speckles of folly.