the moon
a snake of light coiled up
around a chimney
knows nothing of it
or how my skin could melt
on your fingertips while
you hum my name
I need a drink
so I sit on the edge
lean over the ocean
take a sip of you
your naked soul
watch you wash your car
your green T-shirt clinging
to my eye lashes
soaking wet
for a thousand years or so
the smell of salt and beauty
makes me hungry
so I jump from the highest cliff
into a drawer full of
love letters
lavender, lips & crickets
I swallow you inch by inch
quietly
season after season
slowly
you are now
inside me
in the dark danger is a lullaby
and you smile with your sit belt on
falling asleep
in my sleep
while the night
bends

We sit in this room
across from one another
in silence

I try to look at everything
but you

I feel your eyes on me

I feel them roaming
as if your hands are on my body

how is that even possible

it's as if you're right beside me
grazing your fingers where they please

Your lips following their trail

lingering here and there
exploring every dip and hollow

The room feels so tight
this tension is something I can't explain
this silence so deep

I feel so restless
I want to burn something
break something
move

I chance a glance
and our eyes collide

****

what is this feeling
how can something feel so hot

I try to look away
but I'm frozen

I wait
But your eyes are still on mine

A silent challenge

You get up and leave the room

...

And I follow

Scales on bodies
Of that of farmers
Sun bares no harm,
On swinging charmers
A drop of a bit
Gives no smiles
To the hand that feeds
That walk for many miles
Cracks flap, mudcakes
Steaming heat rise won't stop
Children doing rain dance
While egg fries on roof top
Clear sky, bathes no cloud
Just stroke of heavy rays
Heatwaves tants the skin
Bad are these days...



©sim

on those days we spent weaving
into each other on my mattress
perhaps we were writhing we just didn't know

we didn't have to care

if we let the summer fall into
the blue someone else would
haul it out
and resuscitate

the days we just let our phones ring
and wore the song to bed
beneath nothing
but our laughter thicker than my duvet

i guess i'm lucky i can be heartbroken
for a reason
i was heartbroken for so many reasons none
of which i can place or replace

on the wall where the sun tore our photos
into ribbons of shadow
we made the mistake of holding each other
too close
to the light

was i always warm or just aware that you were near me
i'm a rusted furnace with nothing but bones to burn
apparently
there's always a better fire burning in another town

I've been ceaselessly sweating since June
And without fail every day around noon
My arm pits are sopping
My ****** are sodden
I feel about ready to swoon

It’s been glorious weather since June
I’m not sure if you’d think it too soon
But top up the icebox
For Pimm’s on the rocks
And celebrate all afternoon

I'm trying to love you but
you're hand burns when
it touches my cheek
and I've never really been
a fan of the heat.

I don’t mind cruising in the slow lane,
despite this weather, hot and heavy
and not in a good way.
Seeing a torn ear,
blood smear, stitches,
the aftermath of a bad habit eruption,
and the rubble removal,
bit by bit.
A record player, clothing bags,
bits of sadness dusted from the blast.

So the slow lane will do,
the engine doesn’t need the stress,
unnecessary revving,
destination mute.
The trunk and this chest
on their way out
to a cooler place

i hail from heat, heat
in the heart and in the home, in the head and in the heel of the
sword that swings for both justice and action.
i inherit this love, this life and these virtues like heirlooms.
i inherit this boldness from you
i inherit the air of a highborn lady, while not without the humility of a low born daughter from you
i inherit gentle hands of craft into fists of rage and fire that melt away sorrows from you
i rise and fall, for from you
i breathe.
unspoken it was passed down, and yet it stirs and whispers to me in my bones of
ancient thought and force,
passed down from kin to kin, from one blood to another of
temperance and will
that flow like tradition—
a book written on age-old sandstone pressed eons below the earth,
text mapped in bloodlines over a body, not alone. never fading.
you bid me to rise from dust and ashes into the woman of your forging,
and so with a kiss between my brow for
farewell and fortune
i may live with your light tucked into my heart,
because my inheritance lives within me.