as the room is shaking with the sounds of laughter
full of all the people
all the things
all the excitement of new experiences
all I can do is giggle
fully aware that no one knows what each of us actually is doing
as we venture into the world

but we each know
we are not alone

I would like to sear that memory
Of my shaking legs
and our running noses
into my very being
because the way you laughed
retelling me of my mortifying murmurs  
was the best thing I had ever heard
And the way your shoulders shook
and your head leaned back
as I reeled laughing into your chest
was that kind of moment
as the shower head kept us warm
that feels like ‘it’
where your effortless lean
and grin into the iced tea
was a moment I want forever
so I could laugh with you once more

it is in the moments where we want to scream
and yell
and wander the streets like a madwoman
screaming your declarations for the world to know
but instead
we must sit in silence
and stare at the wall
acknowledging paint flecks
like Siken said
laughing till you feel no more

As I sit
Stationary
      Crowded
        and Tired
I find myself
Running
      Freely
       and Leaping
After you

To cling to a pillow
A curious thing
In love
Anguish
Anger
Or pain
A curious thing
To cling to a pillow

It was the way he smiled

and

i knew.

Something special about the way you meet strangers.

We were never supposed to talk to them, but everyone is a stranger till a word is spoken.

Or does it have to be spoken?
Because
When you
Looked

No,

Stared
At me

You went from stranger to someone I’d met before,

Just in dreams

And memories long forgotten

Something special about the way we speak to strangers.

I can’t anymore
whether it be time a cross or sea
the fog makes it impossible to know
just where to leave
the words
for you
from me

I want there to be words to encompass the way his kisses across my collar feels like the nordic fires and metal smiths honing a blade with fierce determination.

the ones up my neck like the night the prodigal son came home. the oxygen in my lungs craving to be mixed with yours, to find it’s way home.

the way his lips taste the way liquor feels when a beggar finds refuge after a long day, craving morsels without sense.

the way his eyes furrow underneath mountains of wisdom from years gone by, like one about to decide a war, not the dress of red or black.

I need words to express the touch of him, like the celebration of a war over, when drinks may be had and songs to be sung, heaving great sighs of relief and joy for the future.

I want to whisper nothings to the wind and have it whisper back to me the echoes of his laughter across my navel.

but there are no words for such things. For the depths of passion are merely scratched by the word itself

when I asked you whether I should go turn out the lights

You said “no. why?”

and for a fraction of a second I could see myself through your eyes

and I never felt the need to ask again

My dear,
When I tell you love is steadfast.
I mean it is both a roaring river but it’s banks will rise and fall
there will be external forces
And there will be internal ones
That push
On
you
And
them
But in the end
The river always flows

When the sun has yet to rise
And when your eyes remain closed

and

When your breathing softens and your shoulders finally drop every fraction of tension

It is then that the shadows seem to encompass you, giving you an ethereal glow

but you remain effortlessly breathtaking

dropping my thoughts, desires, and love at the nape of your neck

before my eyes close for the night

and I am lost in the comfort of you

The wolf sits in the corner
Waiting
As
Crumbs
Drop to ensue his survival
Waiting
For the day

The wolf sits in the corner
Waiting
For crumbs that do not fall

The wolf grows larger straying from the corner
The wolf grows smaller hiding in the corner

The wolf waits
To be fed crumbs of jealousy
Or to be starved of peace

The wolf no longer waits

Sometimes
I lay
And wonder
If liars
Are the only ones that speak truth

Sometimes
I lay
And wonder
If singers
Are the only ones who are mute

Sometimes I lay
And wonder
If I ever loved you

There is something special in the way he holds my hand

There is something special in the way he kisses my forehead

There is something special in the way he rubs my back

There is something special in the way he holds my stare

There is something special- and it’s simply him.

a child’s trust

as they trust jump into your arms

could never be sweeter than anything

except maybe how you smiled at me

leaning against the doorframe

like you could see

forever

sitting awake
I thought of him

of what we were

of what it was

of how it should have been.

but now
I thank god
sitting awake

instead of waking up screaming

the letters drop carelessly from her lips

wait
not carelessly

calculated

waiting for prey

like a wolf under sheep skin

Oh what a thing
To love and be loved

its funny

to break for someone that is not yours
for dreams you did not have before

but i cannot spot picturing

Those little hands
as they stretched out for me

with all the trust in the world

and the way your smile
made me see
as we giggled

how there could be more

Nothing is more frustrating
Than watching the words
Sit
On the edge of your tongue
As you stumble and mutter around them
They scratch their heads at you
and you wonder why the words remain
Stagnant
On the edge of your tongue
Rather than telling
How it actually was

I hate
that you say my name with such careless abandon

just so that my soul would ache

but god I love
the way you touched me

in the dark of night
just to leave me in the morning

The lights that flicker in the window
across the foggy sea
seem to whisper of the lives
That were always meant to be
The whispering of a lovers flame
The embers running slow
The fog of grief that seems to linger
Bringing in the cold
I once knew the woman
Who stoked a fire so bold  
But the home remains cold & empty
No jolly sailor bold
but light still flicker
Across the foggy sea
a little mantle to others
those who were never meant to be

“sorry hockey is life”

and i laughed, letting the dots display themselves like I hadn’t already made up my mind now. “Gotta do what you gotta do” I said.

Staring up into the final swipes of mascara. Wondering who would it benefit if I just took it off and put on the hoodie instead now? but I gotta do, what I gotta do. Just like him, apparently.

And I bought the beer. Mostly cause I pinky promised, remind me never to do that again.

And I sat there playing crib, enjoying the conversation, more the beer than anything. Laughing to myself as I caught the flicks from eyes to screen to Phillies to screen.

cause, you know…

“Hockey is life”.

so I sat pretty, sipping my beer. Thinking about all the amazing things life has to offer. Other than hockey.

there aren’t words
and golf clubs don’t hit hard enough
because at the end of the day
you won’t ever get to hold my Elizabeth or my Theodore
and I still don’t know
If I’m mad at
or simply for you
because you said we’d get to laugh at the way a white dress would twirl round as **** jokes were said and tears were shed
But instead
I just miss you

I am the definition of a god’s love

I may come bearing gifts
Showering you in adoration and devotion
wrapped in the most pleasurable ways
caring for you in ways you have never known
caressing your soul in the most intimate ways

only to leave when you least expect it

left begging at an alter
I’ve vacated and no longer visit

it’s funny how some of the most cathartic moments can be the most mundane.

like hungover snuggles with the dog

Panicking about what this year will look like, did I even like as he laughed into my neck

and she just cuddled in closer
spreading kisses where she could reach, and reminders to breath a little slower

until I felt a little softer.

and realized it’s now a new year, with new mistakes, new memories, and new feelings

but the same little best friend, willing to snore tucked up beside me

so I’m never quite alone

wished we talked more about wanting to be kissed

And how it is so very different when comparing to  wanting someone to kiss you.

I swear the whiskey tastes better
between little tears
the strum of a acoustic guitar
and those little ‘what happened’ moments

I hate nights like now

when I can hear the sputter and puttering of the rain
as it goes about its way
and I am left
thinking back on many nights
where I was out immediately
against a heartbeat and grumble

feeling a safety I haven’t known since

it was the sea And it’s uncanny ability
To wash you into me
So that
The particles of I met the particles of you

Say it to me again
he crooned
as If the soul swallows me whole
and the floor becomes the hearth
to cook the language back to me

I wish for you to love me
against the hollows an the bones
I need for you to love me
so I can be whole once more

he whispered
and it echoed across the hall
down my knees
across the teacups and the bookshelf
it rang along my bones
Beating against my ears

Till it rang empty
against the window panes
As they shuddered
after the close

when we try to compare strength
in the moments of silence
and in screams

I feel we miss the point

Lines
    dropping
from head to toe

you watch

As my fingers
   Trace
from my neck to my left hip

dropping through a valley which releases a moan

Breath
   catching
As you watch
             happily

as i touch your favourite work of art

Would you have waited for me
As I, you?
Did your ears ***** at the sweet mention of consonants that had kinship with your name
or could you have sat
as moonlight and daylight became distant revelations
becoming heresy that no longer changed how you wrote your name on the small of my back
Did you think
I would forget the smell of bourbon on your lips
chasing away the steel in your tone
No.
You wouldn’t have

Fetch my love
Please bring it round the bend
Sometimes it gets lost, every now and again
Tell it to me slow
Just this once more
Fetch me my love
Ah,
she shan’t be taken no more

when his kisses are pleasures
being refined upon my hips
and his hands
caress my shape
like a carpenter varnishing his workpiece

I question how someone could not be entranced

by the paintings scattered across his back
and the husk in his chuckle

I would think
most would give all they have
for one more fix

for his handy tools
and craftsmanship

‘I run the risk that I could get your perfect wrong’
he crooned with nothing
but the wistfulness
that every creative understands
whether
spending every breath trying to capturing their essence
or
refusing to attempt to capture their perfection because
how could you condense
the way his shoulders shifted
making the waves of his freckles find a new shore
and to think
i could capture the new rain his eyes crinkled with
between every smile
and every laugh.

“Ain’t words that could shoulder so much weight”
he sighs
and as the colours never quite matched his hair in the lakeside sun
i knew
that sometimes
the artist sits
across with their morning tea
with their greatest muse
opting for fingers over brushes
and years over pages

and just like that
the world clicks sometimes
and the most beautiful humans can transcend to the most horrifying figures
producing nightmares that should not exist
that render the shadows begging for the whispers of flame
but sometimes
out of the shadows
under echoes of hymnals
lays the softest silence
extending refrains
of the purest silk
that even the sirens, they could not replicate

I am sick of this
beige
of the way it sits against my chest
so that I cannot feel
too much
or even too little

I would tell time to come here so that I may dine her, in hopes to speed up the process. but she is late for our dinner once more.

And so I sit, holding a beige cup, with a beige sweater, in a beige room. Hoping it’ll ever turn transparent, so I may start again.

I love when I stumble across a
moment
where you know it’s one that will be encased in bubble wrap
Preserved with the jams and jellies
Coveted on the shelf
With all the good little memories I have with you
and the way your eyes crinkle when I laugh that particular way
so I smile
and remind myself to keep extra mason jars and bubble wrap
— just for such occasions

I loved it for the way it was
not for what you wanted it to be

It was the way my breath quickened

And I could hear your grin behind me

It was the way you move

Both with all the energy and sharp movements of someone still understanding their abilities

Or maybe just a kid too excited to inhibit their movements

Likely that one.

It was the quiet whispers and booming voice

Dancing to put Shakira to shame, teaching Turner a thing or two about being her man

Both the gentle touch and strong grasp

It was the way you tilt your head when no words can describe that feeling

Both the subtle changes in excitement when it’s new or something new to me

It’s the way your arms feel safe

Without any hesitancy or retaliation

But then you’ll challenge me, without hesitancy and every intention for answers

And giggles turn to moans and groans turn to chuckles and fire turns to heat and heat turns to comfort

But then a connection point must be seen

Toes are viable solutions

It’s trivia at 1am when my brain sputters but yours is whirling and I can’t help but smile at your excitement to the world and all the people in it

It’s you knowing all seven layers of hell and deciding that that one layer humanity rests its head on is worth it

It’s who you are.  

Both who you are, and the person you strive to be.

I didn’t expect it that quickly.

I didn’t expect it at all, not really.

That feeling of freedom, of joy, of lust had yet only come from the ocean.

That echoing force of the breaking waves; wind whipping across skin to leave large smiles and even larger gaps in my soul. Paired with the peace of little murmurs from the ocean as it  beacons me forth. Drawing out my 3am yearnings and 4pm sighs.  

Only the ocean could call forth the passions and peace in me like that.

Now you.

You who snickers at 2000 leagues under the sea because nautical distances mean nothing to you.

You who reminds me of the sea in your powerful arms and howling voice. Your eyes matching the ever-changing colours within the ocean, remnants of emeralds and storms. The desires of all sea lovers culminated into your form.

The ocean that is you crashed into me, and I hope to god I am never cast ashore.