today love looks like
a full body scrub.
and face included.
all traces of anything not alive being removed.
all traces of anything not meant to be here gone.
but no closer to ridding this body of you.
I’d clean this heart of you
if there were something made for messes there.
Bathrooms became sanctuary in high school;
with tear stained countertops,
gossip soaked walls.
Even the constipated souls
Pressing their hands against the ceramic demilune sinks
they would let their tears flow like water through the faucet,
until they found comfort in the arms of another.
Hours spent before, between and after classes
they found comfort and friends
in the conversation that flowed in the bathroom.
Checking themselves over and over again
with the reassuring voices, “you look great” from behind.
Some walk in and hide behind the door of the lavatory stalls,
flushing away sadness,
and washing on a smile on to their face.
Like the granite in the slabs, the memories made
will will be hard to wear off.
The memories made through raw conversation in the bathroom
Adewake, state your mind.
I'm just fine.
The gwaymish way.
A day, I'll stay.
Atop her bays.
They all glistened.
The sea-dappled air.
It blows thickly on shore.
Adorn. Horns blow
I'm rampulsing through.
Those midnight blues.
Formal. From my
The jubiscents of time.
Quote yours against
So scrub me.
Invented language poem.
I'm asking you to love me like a rose amongst the flowers.
Thorny and fearful but you see me for what I am.
Let me be the field that our friendship can lay in.
I'll share with you my memories of pain and suffering.
Let me be the change in your life.
I'll let you try and change mine.
Let us be better then what we are.
You make me hate myself a little less every day.
I want you to be with me, by my side forever more.
I can see you for what you are.
Every event has made you, now I want this event to make you mine.
Be my friend. And be ready for my twisted love.
— The End —