How come it's only you
I can think about
In this drunken haze
Of mine?

you throw me onto the bed
but i don't want to do this.
you caress my cheek,
say it's okay.

you nudge my legs open
but i don't want to do this.
you keep murmuring that it's okay,
and your fingers start roaming,
leaving a trail of tingles in places
i didn't know could feel like that.

your mouth crashes into my closed lips
and you don't hear when i say
i don't want to do this.

and the sad thing is—
it's not until you're done with me that you say
"i'm glad we did this."

I poured my soul into my words
But still they went unheard by my love.
I pressed my body into hers,
Not an inch of space between us
But still a chasm split us down the middle.
Entire oceans roared between us,
But still I held her hand,
Hoping my love would be enough
To save us both.

Torches lit the night sky,
A glowing river of flames
Burning with the passion of hate.

Body after body marching on,
Faces devoid of any humanity
And a grotesque amusement
Sparkling in their eyes.

Senseless chants piercing the air,
The place quickly becoming a gathering
Of ignorance and hatred.

The minutes tickled by,
The violence spreading like a wildfire—
No act of kindness strong enough to
Extinguish it.

**** flags painted the sky a ****** red,
The white no longer a sign of peace,
But rather the symbol of white supremacy.

America.
This is what the place we call "home" has become.

You are car rides
Across the city,
Windows rolled down;
Both of us drunk in oxygen.

You are crazy sunglasses,
The warm sun
illuminating your face,
Your face aglow with
the light of the universe.

You are the softly sung lyrics
Of all my favorite songs,
The melody my mind
Keeps replaying.

You are the eyes behind the lens,
The beauty you forget to portray
In your photographs.

You are the smell of spring,
The air laden with
The perfume of all
the flowers in the world.

You are warm cups of tea
And feminist t-shirts
And hipster glasses
And old songs
And a million unread books.

Tell me, love—

How many more poems
Do I have to write before
you realize that it is
you I write about?

How many more lines
Describing your stormy gray eyes,
Your heart-shaped lips—
Those lips my body is aching
To kiss?  

How many more meaningful looks and
Stolen sidelong glances
Before you look into my eyes
And see the love that has glazed them over?  

How many more times
Do I have to see your hand
Interlaced with someone else’s
Before you realize mine has been open,
Waiting for yours all along?

How many more unsent texts
At midnight when I can’t sleep
And all I need is you?

How much more, my love?
I’m afraid I cannot wait any longer.
Love is a monster tearing at my heart,
Soon to destroy me if I have to see you
With him once more.