my fingers stroke
the curved flesh
so aching in
its movement

our breath held
static in the space
between my heart
and yours

my longing
a primal dissonance
finds serenity in the way
you graze my lips

the pull of your
hands against my
whispered doubts
is hope

a tender, fleeting flower
once so stoic and tightly furled
is learning to breathe

"it's like
you're a popsicle
and he's the sun"

my little sister said
with a strand of ***** blond
hair wrapped around her finger

she said it with a smirk
and a smile all too wise
for thirteen.

your eyes are as fresh as lilies
cut in the morning
with a crimson smile

the way your tender lips
form security and safety
the ***** of your hips breeds
respect and trust
the tendons writhing under
your hands are warmth
every inch of your skin
is love

and your sharp, brooding eyes
are hope

tear off my skin
with the acrid sting of your worries and concerns

things are safe, so rational in the afternoons, in the
tuesday mornings and in the lunches and essays due at noon

it's when the sun drips away behind the clouds
and the air becomes so thick between these walls
i'm choking on your schedule

i want the black padded backing of
the chair as you smile and tell me how
you miss reading the back of cereal
boxes

i want the tremor of your voice
as you harmonize with the radio
and i follow along
off-key

i've only ever wanted to be taken care of
i've only ever wanted to be alone

the night envelopes
me in its heaviness

the air,
so tricky in its whispers,
tells me i can breathe.

i don't believe it.

the pulsing between my
legs won't quit

wound up, starved
ragged

the ticking of
self-depreciation

keeps my body

things
have changed now

years later and i have these
violent, tender things
strangling and
blooming simultaneously

my pale, thick
legs and bruised arms
and the hollows under
my eyes are fighting
a vicious war against
the desperate, wide-eyed
pleadings of my head.

these desperate, cheering lavender flowers.

petals sprout from your fingertips
and they move across my body
in waves of longing and desire
bright blooming in the cold hollows
between my bones
where light has never shone

the way sparks fly from your
eyes sets me aflame from the
sweat of my hair, to the
crooked edges of my fingernails to the
soft sinew of my calves

you’ve created a world anew
in between the
whispers of my fears and insecurities

it's tuesday and
the fog rolling along the damp
sidewalk is nipping at my heels
as they click

the air smells like the hush of
christmas trees, the nostalgic
wish of hopefulness

my mind is bouncing back
between the minuscule and
the extraordinary, the deadlines
and the christmas cookies

today is tuesday.

i feel like my form is hollow.

no organs pulsingandthrumming, my veins drained.

empty.

the emptiness left behind after you weaved
your fingers between my ribs and slipped
your hands around my heart, only to leave
a gaping hole when you were wrenched away
from me.

every day I wake
and look at myself with utter
disgust
every inch of my skin,
every pore and strand of hair is
dripping with the grease and slime you left behind,
coating
my ears
and my eyes
and my mouth
and my heart
altering my perception of reality.

you.
you built me up with
your sweet, slick words
and melting eyes
and rough fingers at my waist

the taste of bitter coffee and cigarettes ringing in my ears

your presence, so near and secret, created a world
outside the struggle and need for validation I fought through

a world built up on glass spires
of innocence
and desire
and longing
and secrecy
and need.