Say you love me
like I love you
often and always
a million times
embrace me
consume me
burn me with kisses

If you go deaf
I will stop listening
If you go blind
I will stop looking
If you die
I will stop living
.
.
Songs for this:
From The Start by Good Kid
Habits (feat. Haley Reinhart) by Scott Bradlee's Postmodern Jukebox
Lover Girl by Laufey
In a Manner of Speaking (feat. Camille) by Nouvelle Vague

What is this feeling in my stomach?
The butterflies flutter nonstop—I can hear their wings beating beneath my skin.
I feel them shift from side to side,
Claiming what little remains of me.

What is it?
What is this bitter taste rising through my throat, resting on my tongue?
Why can’t I hear the butterflies anymore?
Why do I still feel this?

My mouth opens, and all I spit is blood and glass.
The sour bile of what the butterflies once were grows thick—and I can do nothing.
“Spit them out, regurgitate them, let them go!”
I can’t.

I press my chest, and slowly my arms bind themselves around my belly,
Cradle of cutting kisses—kisses that now hurt,
And no longer heal the way they used to.

I rise from mourning, only to fall again, and the butterflies begin to flutter once more,
But they no longer beat like drums or echo like thunder.
They don’t crash against my walls or hide in my corners…
They are there, but not alive.

They try to climb.
I feel them fighting each other, pushing for space up my esophagus—
Once a path for all things good,
Now a tunnel for all things painful.
I hear them scream; their tiny voices pierce my eardrums and shake my bones.

They want out.

And I understand them well:
What good is a body that dances among broken hearts?
What use are shards beneath my feet,
Reminding me how little I’ve felt?
What comfort is the weeping of a soul grown weary?
What joy lies in the bottomless hollow of a body fed by illusions?
They were made for the sun—for joy, for love—
And all I can offer is an umbrella
For the relentless rain storming inside me.
Cold, decaying rain that stains the walls and soils my shoes, instead of washing them clean.

They’re almost free—
About to escape.
But I swallow them down once more,
Just as I’ve swallowed the bile of melancholy,
Just as I’ve swallowed the tears that swore, they would soften the blades of my sharp-edged heart.

I feel them sink slowly,
Their wings now still—they’ve accepted their fate.
I don’t want to let them go,
Because they’re all I have left.
They’re all I have of what once was pain.
They’re all I have of what once was passion…

They’re all I have of what once was love.

Kissing I slide down

over his tongue into his --


soul, and feel his fear.

Make sure there's nobody around
To see you leave this place,
Keep your eyes down,
Don't even look back at me.

If they ask why you were gone,
You were studying; you ran back,
I know they'll ask why you're flushed,
But keep your head down and nod.

Drive down the backroads when you leave,
Replay the words I always say:
"You can always stop"
But I know we won't get there

To those meetings in parking lots,
Because we're just lying in these rooms
Continuing this illicit affair
Because we failed to hide our longing stares.

It started with just a kiss, now it's so much more,
And it'll end with all of this,
Dying and dying like the stars we sat under
A million times together.

When you leave, take everything with you,
Delete all the photos, and emails,
Like we didn't exist at all,
I'm sorry I left you stranded again.

But don't take my words to heart,
I'm just high of the taste of you,
It'll all wear away soon,
No illicit affairs to die anymore.

And if we talk again, I'm screaming on the inside,
Because if you try to call me baby,
I'll cry, like we died, and I can't let you
See all those parts of me again.

So don't come up to me again
Like we're back to normal—it's just pretend
And I know that I'm a broken mess,
But you made me keep coming back

So I know all too well how this goes,
This game, this play, this twisted show,
And I can't deny that I would ruin myself
For you a million times.

i think it’s ‘cause
i’ve never had
a boy to call my own
no whispered names, no midnight texts
no ache i’ve ever known
maybe that’s why i can’t quite grasp
why beautiful girls stay
my little sister and dearest friends
when what they call “love”
turns dull and gray
he speaks in thorns
not petals soft
and yet they hold on tight.
is it fear of being all alone
or hope that he’ll make it right?
and here i am
untouched by blinding love
can only stand and see
how strange it is to love someone
when they bring you only harm.

I am older now,
And we've been together
For decades now,
So I don't pretend
To remember
Our first kiss, now.
Anyhow,
It's sensations are still with me.
That kiss was a sentence.
Anywho, or, Anywhom,
What's more important,
Is...
I don't foresee
Our last
Anytime soon.

She doesn't wear vanilla dresses,
Ethereal shoes and a mint beret.
She doesn't accept gluey embraces
And kisses, where the truth is away.

She doesn't like stuffy speeches
About the Moon and stars at her feet.
She doesn't need a fiery chatter,
If there is a hollow behind it.

No use to disturb the Sun in vain
And lead it to shine only for her.
In fact all your cries are trait falsehood.
No need to be so low-lived amateur.

The sea throws a foam right at her feet.
Sea waves are noisy and bold.
Her ear's softly caressed by seagulls.
These birds are the peerless sea gold.

Her clothes are surely relaxed fitting,
And so it has always been.
The wind in her face, unfastened hair,
And he's nearby - it's the ultimate thing.

I place my hand on your shoulders.
They snap together
like an old-fashioned clothespin
on my grandmother’s clothesline.

I intruded upon your space.  
I arrived at a place
that enveloped you
in personal cellophane.

You don't touch.
You won't be touched.  
What pleasures you miss, such as,
feeling the roughness of a wrinkled ear.

You fail to feel a touch
as a finger glides along your cheek,
moving with a tenderness
that surpasses any kiss.

Frigid fear confines you,
isolating you from the human touch
that caresses and warms the soul.

You navigate life
like an unrefined stone
resting among precious gems,
made luminous by countless rubs.

The sincere loving melodies
Of her exotic kisses like
evening rain upon flowers

Reynaldo Casison