covered like ivory
richest of all man's desires
a disarray of
such wet dreams
each fold and crease
a mark of unfathomable
harder than any love
like a silent
speaks in the tongue of love
its native language
and only one its
a ornate mask
i can be any
just for you, baby
a woeful heart
hard as nails
cared for like
a trough of crystals
i have lost my true humanity.
we’re tongue tied,
it’s heavy, so heavy
that it’s driving me mad.
it gets heavy when you turn off the lights.
your wicked ways intimately
hold me and i’m feeling
dizzy and addicted.
it’s mental how beautiful you are
and insane how i’m feeling
you all over me and inside me.
he’s so heavy,
his love is so heavy,
his weight hits me so fast.
One pressing question:
Am I in love with you,
Or with the thought of you?
Need I mention
The times this seemed new?
I'm enjoying the possible view
But with every ascension
Comes the downfall; it's on queue
Dear mind, you led me on, didn't you?
Stemming from your invention;
Naturally, it's mine too.
Turned nothing into something, but: is it true?
This something can cause either aversion:
One head turning away, what's the use?
One head seeing if it's worth every bruise
Or ease us into a convenient situation:
Straight-faced girl doesn't seem to be all gloom,
Quiet shy guy, will he let these feelings through?
Dearest Ozzy, admit an alleged affection
For my mind to either emancipate and cruise
Or for it to know if I'm your destined muse
With that, I'd give my unbridled attention
Support you through trials; celebrate victories due
Unparalleled love, only to you imbued
p. b. l. 04/18/2017
it started when we were younger, you were mine
second semester, asked me if i was older
i said no, but i could've passed as your mentor
you tried to know me, initiated small talk
one time you caught me, i know i looked like a gawk
you can see it no matter how i try to hide
don't know why; i was prob'ly lost in all my thoughts
staring at you, something comforting it just brought
i could remember as your brown jewels drift to mine
then i knew my own, struck you too long, my divine
i know we haven't seen each other in a while
but you will always be my boo
i see you're trying; asking things that i'm into
don't know if we could sustain this, that's the issue
but even if you find someone else you desire,
know you're the first guy to give me these butterflies
i bury blue eyes in makeup, simple ghouls floating
in the blush of my cheeks and souls set free
in the dark rings underneath my eyes
and i want to write a poem about the time
you told me that my body is an altar,
a holy place to worship
and i want to roll your name over my teeth,
feel the weight of it in the hollows of my chest,
and feel the harmony of it pulse in my veins
i want to feel your fingers beat out the rhythm
of phantom desire on the small of my back –
like knocking at an unlocked door –
and let you pluck the honey and spice from my lips
i want to tell you that i long to move my hands
across the expanse of burning skin on your chest,
and feel your body breathe, woven into bedsheets,
red-eyed and lost in translation
i want you to kiss me with abandon,
pull me out from the wreckage of my body,
hold me like smoke in your lungs,
and let the marrow thicken in your bones
i want to wake up where you are on sunday,
our legs entangled in burnt sheets, your
hands resting against the curve of my spine,
and watch as you sleep, twitching through dreams
i want to be everything to you, i want to fill your blood,
to hold your kiss deep in my teeth, to be the body
asleep next to you on the other side of midnight
but my bed is empty, a ghost town built on
wasted eyeshadow and smeared lipstick
and how could you have told me that
my body was an altar, a holy place
when i was nothing but a mirage to you,
and your love to me, a myth
Him: Do you still think of me?
Her: Back then, yes.
In fact, all the time.
But not now, not always.
Him: I still think of you.
Her: Do you think of me
because you miss me?
Or did you miss me
just because you remembered me?
It’s the same thought but different feelings.
I slept to wake with open ears.
Let alone, following a certain feeling that led me to believe that I was missing,
To walk a path that led to what I figured I'd treasure most.
A slow walk to me, to you.
Missing the hint that given enough time, all things change.
Learning to open the bright red door without looking back to whom I once was.
Continuing to walk forward with the hint I was missing something.
I convinced myself that I too was a reflection.
That not all footprints are forgotten.
The threshold of a long lasting impression.
Positioned under a wooden frame.
The twist of a knob.
I sort of imagined that it would always be like this.
That self realization where I'd no longer feel I'd fit.
The hinge of an closed door,
That feeling that something or someone is missing.
The perception that time is always on your side.
The sting of a slammed door, sleeping only to wake with a sudden rise.
Left behind in that odd space found between each second.
Pacing back and forth.
The amount of time it takes to unlock physical freedom.
I was the door that stood between myself and what I desired most.
A slow walk to me, to you.
With a helping hand, not all impressions are forgotten.
The blank creaking expression of doors and the ones we love
She was a small town, swollen with life.
A miniature seed spread wide in the palm of her hand.
There is no place I'd rather be than here.
Her face motioning a smile. Flat eyebrows.
She opened her hand sharing a piece of her town with me.
This small town rooted in the palm of her hand.
A commotion coming loud from the center of her palm.
Mid-traffic jams in steady motion.
She promised that it wouldn't last long, this commotion.
That everyone travels at one time or another.
That she stumbled across this place and never left.
Leaving it just the way it was.
Allowing the tourist to take as many pictures as they'd like.
This small town covered with music and lights.
She motioned the band to play something mellow.
This small town of hers, welcoming me to sit closer and listen.
Motioning them to play something a bit slower.
Long tones of rhythm and blues.
This was how she was.
The lights dimming a bit lower in her eye.
I saw people gather at tables, taking their seat to watch the band.
The pupils of her eyes wide and full.
Comfortable in their skin.
This was her perception.
Of course I on the outside still I heard the sound.
Coming to a complete stop, I grasped her hand tighter.
Holding on to every moment fearing that it would end.
The instruments, the vocals of long tones played by steady fingers, paused lips.
We wandered in The parking lot of open hands.
Hearing the music, walking somewhere where it wasn't so crowded.
We witnessed a wedding. The coming of grins coming together closed mouth.
Actions spoke louder in the reassurance of promise.
She wouldn't have it any other way.
Promising the town in a night of closed hands.
She too stood on the outside.
Waiting on the bridge to lower, crossing over to my side of town