Late night phone calls
Conversations and sapphic dreams
Days got so long
I couldn't keep her entertained
It’s haunting and painful
Loving what you can’t hold

Coldness crept beneath the warmth
I thought she gave
Ensnared me; constricting
I couldn’t breathe
Thought I was breathless because I loved her
But she killed me with her sweetness

Worry, confusion
Tainted memories
Agony and heartache
Looking back in vain

I’m blurry, misguided
Troubled and insecure
Uncertain and lonely
Trying to find a cure
To all of my despair
Thought she was something more

Wet and red
As my wrists bled
She was there
In every tear I shed
What a haunting way
To honor
The memory of a ghost

Priestess in my memories
Temptress in my dreams
Why was it so easy?
So easy to leave me?
To hurt me?
How was it so easy to let me go?

I’m still holding on
To all the things I can’t recall
You must have took them all
On our last call
The sound of your laughter
The sound of your voice
Choking on your tears
I still remember

Worry, confusion
Tainted memories
In the tea stained color
Of her eyes
Agony and heartache
Looking back in vain

I’m blurry, misguided
Troubled and insecure
Uncertain and lonely
Trying to find a cure
To all of my despair
Thought she was something more
But I was colorblind, I should’ve known
When our love was blue in a world of red

My summer haze.
You exist
as salted scrunchies,
Freckled thighs,
Whiskey tongue.
You exist,
Right?

By Fall,
I know it to be true.
My autumn girl.
I look into her
tasting wet leaves,
pine and cinnamon.
Her body still
hot as August sun.

Fireplace feet,
wobbly knees under fleece.
Suddenly,
you are Christmas wine,
Snowflake tears.
Teeth never clattered,
Hands never cold.

I can’t see spring.
Perhaps that’s where it ends.
Maybe it never was.
Still,
I dream of you
And still,
I wonder
if you dream too.

love written on palms
strapped in tandem
asked if i wanted to dance in the clouds with you
right beside me
cloudberry you're my beloved
involuntarily bloomed for your bee
the cure of your currant
leaves thoughts that are never vacant
love is abundant
golden fields cover my heart
touch my tongue
followed by the melody of a harp
up in the sky
ballads never quiet
always highly sung
completely
immensely
sprung
flung into young love

ill give you the first golden light of the morning, sunbeams warm against your skin

the first star in the night sky,
cupped in the palms of my hands,  dripping soft light and spilling out onto my bedroom floor as we exchange secrets

the first breath i breathe when you pull away, a whisper of your name on my tongue

the first touch,
soft hungry hands and the way they search and find a place once longed for

the first kiss and the way your mouth found mine
teeth clinking together like wine glasses, a celebration of finely aged love

two lovers

many firsts, always forevers.

Maida…

My Maida…

Those honeysuckle eyes and that raspberry grin

Good and strong hands with good and strong fingers

My heart bruised my ribs when I saw you first

And as our night bid us adieu

And broken light licked our cheeks

I came unto you

As you had come unto me.

For now and for ever,

Your secret love.

this cold sunrise will choke on all the dark, sunless ways that i am in love you. sweet one, let's watch the light as it falls apart and crawl, like ether on our golden skin. this is us sitting in the last of september's lights — this is us in the finitude of poetry, and i have never seen anything as beautiful.

we kissed for the first time behind a coffee shop.
in the haze of morning
her hand found mine
warm morning air settled on our skin

i kissed her at a stop sign in the dark.
foot on the brake,
heartbeats whispering between breaths,
“green light green light green light”

her face shrouded in warm candle light.
her hand in the water of the bath i lay in
”don’t get your sleeve wet”
*”i don’t mind”

the lines by her eyes read how she parted the red sea.
her fingertips rub your scalp like she’s writing a testament to every thursday night in your studio apartment.
her voice at 5:54AM will bring you to your knees faster than any choir medley could.
she will ask you to dinner over text, and you will tattoo it on the inside of your eyelids,
skin bleeding,
but every dream has a home inside your head,
a prophecy set in your bedsheets.

you were never quite a righteous woman,
but you’d get baptized in her bathtub,
for there is no deity perfect enough nor cruel enough
to speak her into existence.