take a look at broken love
like a ticking grandfather clock
with heavy moments passing through
minuscule motions of crisscrossing hands
the thum of time beating in weather worn chests

take a look at broken love
like a melting ice cream cone
with sticky sweet liquid seeping onto
similarly sticky juvenile fingertips
the heat of summertime shimmering against butter pecan

take a look at broken love
like a shoot ‘em up film
with crafty bullets zigzagging across
rolling reels of burning celluloid
the sound of gunshots blasting into your ears

take a look at broken love
like a fragrant red rose
with outstretched crimson petals cradling
passive pinpoints of dripping relief
the delicacy of liquid clinging onto fragile flesh

she’s vulnerable
flesh carved out of velvet
blood as thin as water
mind as malleable as clay
it appealed to you, this softness
of touch in the morning
of voice in your ear
of bleeding heart beating
you sought it out
her hair as soft as silk
the sunshine off her sternum
her mouth parted and wet
she’s beautiful
the way she fits with you
her hand wrapped around your own
her laughter filling your silence

but without warning,
her soft touch turned to
a million bugs underneath your skin
her voice melted into
the shrillest sound at night
her vulnerability withered into
a weakness you couldn’t escape
you tried to let her down gently
as gently as she let you in
but you misstepped
and let her destroy herself.

i caught perfection
my hands awash in a masterpiece
but when i finally held you close
i became waterlogged in you

i tested your waters
dipped my toes in your coldness
but when i finally jumped in
i swallowed gallons of your turquoise
i bathed in your beauty
soaked in your cerulean shores
but when i finally let your tide take me
i drowned in your shallow end
i swam through your depths
deep-dived your current blues
but when i thought i finally hit your seafloor
i suddenly found myself in your abyss

i caught perfection
my hands wet with greatness
but when i finally realized your worth
i knew you had slipped just out of reach

i shot your words into the sky
and watched them hang onto tips of stars
a million twinkling promises
against the deepest blue of night
they shimmered and shone
creating glimmers of hope
in the bleakest of moments
but as time passed
i desperately sought them out
through the lens of a tunneling telescope
and softly cried
as they slowly
faded from
view

I’m not a poet
But I can write you a poem
Compare your eyes to silver seas
And make metaphors out of your laugh

I’m not a painter
But I can paint you a painting
Color your skin in flesh tones
And surround your light in shadows

I’m not a chef
But I can cook you a feast
Savor the soft taste of you
And gorge on the fruits of your love

I’m not a sculptor
But I can build you out of clay
Smooth out your weary imperfections
And mold you into what you want to create

I’m not a singer
But I can carry a tune for you
Hold your falsetto in pleasure
And growl my way through your baritone

I’m not an artist
But I can make art out of you
Put you up on display
And showcase the beauty that is you

you ever look into the mirror
and love what you see
well, i know i do
because i know what skinny meant to me

it meant the dress actually fit
and i can button those pants
no more double digits
screaming at me on sewed tags

it meant a scale didn’t scare me
every time i went to the doctor
i could look at the number
and not cry about it later

it meant loving the way you look
but hating the way you feel
knowing what it took to get there
knowing how long it will take to heal

knowing it means a pack a day
stuck between my teeth
the smell of cigarettes
wafting off my skin

it means no food tuesday
and thursday and sunday too
and binging on the space
left in between

it means bent over a toilet bowl
with a finger down my throat
and running the faucet next to me
so no one has to hear

you ever look into the mirror
and hate what you see
well, i know i do
because i know what skinny means to me

when you’re in love
the dishes don’t need to be done
instead, you leave them to sit
so you can do them together
with bubbles stuck in your hair
with your wet kisses on his neck
your laughter reverberating
even hours after you’re done

when you’re in love,
the laundry can wait
instead, you leave it to pile up
so you can fold in tandem
with you both sitting on the floor
with your knees slightly touching his
the neat piles all around the room
even hours after you’ve finished

when you’re in love
the bed doesn’t need to be made
instead, you leave it a mess
so you can tumble into it at night
with his warm skin against your own
with his arms wrapped around you tight
the smell of him on your pillow
even hours after he’s gone

when you’re in love,
the only time well spent
is the time spent with one another