sunrise first optic pins toe-tipping play across the meadow wind bends the forrest fringe west away the trees adverse to receive priestly daylight after all the business completed during a most competitive and predatory night
I. she is quenchable aching but yearns to be held to be fed to be told just come to bed
II. peach crumb cake on the counter she takes her time consumes with limits she feasts tenderly modestly
III. i missed your voice and i shouldn't say that not to you stupid incomprehensible intolerable i think of your lips on mine over and over all night and my insides are soft squishy intolerable
IV. love is made here in the sunlight in the kitchen if she would not step foot here it must not be her
V. in the laundry room she is his four paws and tiny nose poking under the door she is asking "what u up 2?" she is tails that wag and eyes wide she is racing down the hallway to the back door back to the kitchen
VI. he said he doesn't love her anymore doesn't feel anything for her anymore but his eyes glance through the neighborhood towards her home, their home his words always find their way back to her
VII. she is patiently waiting at the front door chilled wine and fruit she already drew you a bath there's rose petals in the water there's candles across the floor she doesn't ask to join she just wishes you her best tells you to relax and take your time she is still just a concept but she is warm and light and beautiful she is always welcome here
VIII. lukewarm coffee in the press you silently watch me grab the *** then tell me to turn around you already made coffee this morning and you tell me it's delicious simply wonderful and i am sipping it on the front porch it tastes like love used to live here
its been six years since i submitted anything here. we still doing this??
Shame is a man that I know well He lingers near my bedroom doorway Watching me undress Scanning my movements He documents my every transgression So when the time is right My guilt can be displayed Shame is cunning that way
Shame is a woman that I cannot relate to She calls me a **** Woman attacking woman Mocking the concept of sisterhood Spitting on the idea of love Destroying the human in all of us
Shame is an infectious disease That I caught as a child Deadly, contagious Telling me lies, brutally outrageous Like I am ugly and worthless Like I am not enough Shame is a toxic addiction That we should all try to give up
My life has become a bit like a fishbowl: the glass is thick and durable, it's supposed to be smudge-proof, but you never fail to leave your finger- prints behind. There are rocks at the bottom, a blend of neons: blue and orange and pink and green and yellow, painted with the cheap kind of paint that eventually chips away and gathers at the tip-top of the water...always mixing in with the the flimsy food flakes you toss in at mealtimes before watching with disinterested fascination as I swim to the top and sort through what's edible and what's not, as if the food is much better than the chips of paint and the dust bites that gather after a few days of sitting on the counter. My bowl stays in the sun as though the pink and purple fake plants you've given me require time spent in the light to grow and prosper, although it is fun to check every now and then to see how much you really care when I let myself drift to the top of the water to bask in the glow of either the sun or the artificial lamp that's been placed next to my bowl. Some nights you forget to turn it off, but I don't mind so much because at least then I can watch over you at night the way you watch over her, instead of me.
The horizon took a smoke break at sunset And 7 hours later she's still gone No doubt sleeping with the breeze I stand on the deck in the darkness Leaning forward My hands on the rail Gazing at the infinite mirror, reflecting The air is as still and cold as the water Just like the man next to me He sighs but no vapor forms He's cloaked in a blue shadow Like the bottom of the ocean A darker blue I've never seen But in a voice clear as ice he asks 'Do you love me?' I nod 'Not talking tonight?' I nod He rests his stygian blue fingers On the back of my moon-light hand And we kiss Enjoying each other Until the sun clocks in in the morning
2/1/21 The personification of the moon and the sea. Look up stygian blue it's very interesting and helps with the visual. ((This is also my 4th attempt at uploading this poem idk what's going on with the site but whatever))