i hold my pen like a molten iron searing burning heat kinda like a voice buried too long it bleeds in fire and ink lines crack through the bed of a once-living thing
the river has run dry kinda like soft sighs over stones a ribbon of silvered dead dreams now it’s a mouth gaping and thirsty craving the taste of anything but dirt
the trees lean in rusted branches roots reaching for raindrops in dust the fish are gone their ghosts swim there now ugly beasts swimming in my brain now
i write more so not to remember but to file a grievance the pen brands truths into the paper’s flesh dry cracked parchment i dare to call river each word my funeral each pause my drought but i can’t get the heat to lift so i write
she likes to follow me into the steam where the water blurs kinda somewhere between her skin and my dreams she says to don’t give any mind to her she's just here to kneel and pray i don't speak
she listens to the way i breathe
when i think no one is near i let her finish praying and let out a big scream i thinks she kinda likes it when i call her Amen
she tucks them there right under my nose her tiny pink hipsters kinda like some soft silky secret silk under my sleep not to forget just to tease me a little kinda her way of saying i was here i'm gonna be back for more her pink flag of tender ****** waving with laughs and skin whispering hot stuff her cotton-made pillow talk
she speaks in riddles sometimes a smile longing sideways words slipping past her teeth like marbles she slips under my tongue when she kisses me my tongue-and-cheek girlfriend laughs lodged in her dimples truths tucked under her winks and shoulder shrugs she tells me love isn't something to shout about just something to chew slowly kinda like sour bubblegum you're addicted and can let go
and i believe her even when she calls me a poet kinda like and a dare more than a compliment but i don't care she's my favorite sour bubblegum
some things don't ask for permission kinda like the way i sprinkle salt on a slice of apple and call it perfect it tickles the tongue wakes up some sweetness like a small tug-of-war my grandfather does it too he always knows what the heart wants before the mouth does people ask why and i laugh because they've never tasted how memories and hunger can meet in one bite