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Regret melts slow,
dripping from the side.
It feels like skin being tugged against,
the impression left from
my hand to yours.
The anticipation of being patient
burns and flickers,
excitedly proud to be included.

Your back, the wick that stands straight,
slowly curving,
stretching, releasing tension.
Your legs wrapped in mine.
If you were to blow too hard,
the flame would whoosh,
leaving nothing but a puddle.
The people we were
staring, looking at the mess.

The rest of my strength
supports your arch,
the curled wick that's grown tired
against my chest.
No matter how you lay,
I am comfortable in your wild stretch.
Sleep surrounding both of us—
I have your back, your heart.
The crisp edges of your hair tangled
On my head

The smoke of desire soots and breathes,
dried in a puddle of wax
She keeps this beast  
Locked inside,  
Feeding it wine
To settle it down.  
When you look at her,  
She looks like she has it  
All together.  
But nobody really knows
What it's like.  
To stay up half the night,  
Clawed from the inside out.
It terrifies her.
Most days she doesn't say a word
And keeps to herself.
To the one she loves,  
If she reveals those pieces  
Of herself,  
Will you stay? Will you go?  
Like everything else that  
She’s lost.
She drinks to keep herself at peace,  
To keep the beast
from growling too loud.  
And for a minute, she forgets about  
Those broken pieces that didn’t  
Heal quite right.
That it's okay to breathe.
Even if it's for a minute.

If you’re reading this,  
She’s afraid  
To let you in.  
That once you’re in,  
You’ll smell those rotten parts  
That hide behind her eyes,
Or that you’ll hear the toenails screech  
Of the beast she keeps subdued,  
That you’ll realize it’s not  
A beast at all.
It’s the part of her that realizes  
The possibility that you cannot  
Love her, without loving the beast.
Those not so good pieces of herself.
Those frazzled insecure pieces
That despite everything she cannot
Control.
And in the end,  
She’ll regret it all if you turn around
And walk away.
No matter how strong the cage.
One of those bars loosens
Everytime she stares at you
Maybe that's love
the space that exists between things,
the reason there are gaps
between our fingers.
Between everything.
I'd never been good at using chopsticks.
I'd always drop them trying to grip
something heavy,
something more substantial.
One stick would go left, the other
would go right,
making a mess of everything.

Rice was easy.
But then again, maybe that's how love works.
snapping between the space of things,
Because she could pick them up
and use them, no problem.

It kind of changes your perspective
when you're hungry and can't eat
how you want to eat.
Rice is good, but I wanted something a bit heartier.
Something me and my clumsy
hands could enjoy.
She'd laugh,
chowing down on her noodles,
all tangled and twisted up.
It came naturally to her.
Me, I just couldn't get it.
The more we sat,
the more I craved something
Other than rice.
I craved her heart.
Steady, patient.
I didn't know how to hold her
But one day I'll learn how
One day,
there won't be a knock
or a call to announce where I am.
I'll walk across your ribs,
towards the light of your heart,
to a door that swings wide open
to a place where I am welcome,
a place that I've earned the right to be.

It takes courage to open your home
to someone.
Each room held up by boards
of trust.
your head, your mouth,
an attic filled with old memories,
fondled by silence,
as patient as you are.
I would never evoke your wrath.
As sturdy as those boards are,
I know they still creak,
eager to lash out.
Not in vain, but out of protection.

If one day that is the case,
I will accept it,
for it is not just your heart
but all of you that is my home.
And if something is broken,
we'll work to fix and repair
what is torn apart.

Here, in you, I am home.
And I will take care of every part
of you.
One day,
there won't be a knock
or a call to announce where I am,
because you'll already know.
I wouldn't accept your key
if I weren't absolutely sure
that I wanted to call you home
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2024
Most things in life happen to be a contradiction
odd as it sounds, especially
when it comes to the things we love.
They have a way of crunching us down
and breaking us open.
There aren’t many things that get us,
but of the few that do,
I’m glad that you’re one of them.

The way the salt blends perfectly with your skin,
even when you’re cold. You’re crisp, sometimes moist.
Every moment can't be as perfect as the last,
but I think that’s what makes us, us
the things that happen in between the things we like,
and the way we get along with the things
we never thought we would.

Like drizzling you in bits of chocolate,
even though it’s dark
it brings out the pieces of you
that you try to hide beneath the warm,
fried parts of you that everyone sees.
Odd as it sounds, your salt with my sweet
you get me just like I get you,
tangled in a convulsion of warmth.

There’s something about the way that you crunch
that makes me reach my hand out for more
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2024
When I am around you,
I feel heavy.
Everything that normally bothers me
isn't a concern anymore.
Not that it's not there,
it just softens
a whole lot.
In fact, everything softens
when I am around you.

In time, even blankets can warm
the coldest of beds,
and that's what you are to me;
a blanket so thick,
you just fall into it and sink,
You drape across me.
Your breath filling the air of my ears,
warm, soft
one of the best blankets I've been
wrapped up in my whole life.

After a few minutes, I am asleep
inside you.
My bones, my worries,
everything fades away.
Your warmth, my everything
Kewayne Wadley Dec 2024
She unravels herself like a rose  
In the palm of my hand.  
Some of her petals break off  
And lay to the side
The pain of growth,  
Making room for something new.  

She looks me in the eye,  
The tension of letting go  
Of reasonable fear.  
Too many lonely nights.  
The crescent moon of every lie  
Hovers over her head.  

Piece by piece,  
She's laid that insecurity in my hands,  
That uncertainty in her eyes,  
Slowly turning into trust.  
Seeing that I didn’t discard  
The pieces of her that flaked off,  
In my hands.  
Regardless of how bad they look,  
They are a part of her.  

She twists and she turns,  
Her thorns piercing my skin,  
One after another.  
With confidence, I don’t have to tell her  
That I am not afraid.  
But I do so anyway.  

The crescent moon that hangs  
Above her head fills out  
And becomes full.  
As comfortable as she seems,  
Fear still lingers.  
No matter how much she  
Lets go,  
She's been let down before.  

In time, my hands will become  
A vase that will protect her from harm,  
And my heart a place  
That will warm her always.  
When the day comes she knows,  
With certainty, that I am not afraid,  
I will still tell her
I am not afraid
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2024
You're still on my mind
the way you taste, and the way  
you make me feel.  
The world moves fast,  
and soon, the time will be here again.  
Instead of a turkey,  
you've carved pieces of my heart  
and reminded me of all the things I've forgotten.  
The aches and pains that have taken  
over the empty spaces between  
the hands on the clock
work, bills,  
pieces of my most intimate self  
I've traded to sustain a living.  

You've carved these pieces of my heart,  
as savory as they can be,  
and fed them to me,  
showing me that the world isn't  
that miserable
regardless of the fake smiles in a  
fast-moving world.  
My favorite time of the year comes  
quicker, followed by my favorite  
season.  
Thank you for showing up,  
and allowing us to feast on the parts  
of ourselves we always seem to forget.  
Next year, this time will come around  
faster.  
Until then, I'll savor the way you taste  
and how good it feels to be around you
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2024
You're beside me,  
And everything is fine.  
It doesn't really matter  
What we do outside of this.  

I ask what you want to watch,  
Scrolling through my DVDs.  
You smile and point,  
Even if it's something I don't want  
To watch. I watch because it's an extension  
Of you.  

Knowing me, I'll pick something  
Stupid that'll make us laugh.  
When the screen flickers,  
You light up.  
We laugh and we talk,  
Catching everything that makes  
It interesting.  

Most of the time,  
I only laugh because you're laughing.  
You really don't know how beautiful  
Your smile is.  
Even when the movie is over,  
The taste of your lips  
Makes it worthwhile.  
Just this, being with you.  
It's not about the movie at all.  
The DVD may spin,  
The world may swirl around,  
But beside you, time stands still.
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2024
Nothing fits right anymore,
like trying to walk in shoes three sizes too small.
I feel each step, my toes crumbled up,
crunched in the toe,
I walk crooked, trying to find any bit of relief.
But it’s never enough.
Tight in the places that matter most,
pinched and cramped, like the space you left behind.
The more I try to follow,
the more I feel like I'm in the wrong.

When I take them off,
I feel the ache of crooked blisters.
Red and bruised heels,
But I cannot walk around without shoes.
I understand that you can’t make everything in life work,
but that doesn’t stop me from trying.
These shoes drag the weight of good intentions,
and I trip over everything.

I’ve been to different stores,
but the shoes they offer fit too loose.
I try to walk, but the shoes don’t bend.
A normal five minute walk
expands into hours.
Too wide to make a complete trip
Without pain,
nothing fits right anymore
outgrown, worn, too tight.
Everyone points and laughs at a man
With shoes three sizes too small.
Who am I to chase

The weight of who I am without you sets in.
I am lost in a world without you.
All I have are these shoes that I cannot fill
without you
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