We grew in this yard
in between the broken glass and dog **** vine inches minutes by hours by days roots crept in an inconsistent soil and growing despite To arrive now with weekend garden centre eyes you may see weakness in some leaves that belies the truth of a fragile fruit long nurtured from blood and uncompromising viticulture And if you try to claim the bouquet or the legs on that glass or the complexity of hard fought tannins and subtle warmth and lasting aftertaste Then you will see us spit
did we have better plans?
was the world ours? was it going to be something we could be? and with that wish - with that breath - with that hold on the world - it was ours it was really yours but with that maybe it was mine too
i'll hang on to tomorrow
until my fingers are fiery and blistered and even then
The night was ours and we shared with the ones who craved.
it all started with a little touch.
i fiddled with your fingers until it ended up intertwined. i looked at you and you looked back, just an inch of space between us. you whispered to my ear and i listened. suddenly, your lips were on mine. the sudden action reminded me that i had no skill when it comes to responsiveness. i felt embarrassed but brave to admit because of these feelings. i told you i didn’t know how to respond back and you said you’d teach me tomorrow. how i long for tomorrow to come, but dreams don’t have tomorrow, it’s all in our heads.
adore the joy of others that you forgot Ours.
i'll never say
"all rights reserved" because these poems aren't really mine. as soon as you resonate with my inky words, they are yours.
idk. i hope you're doing alright, lovely.