Meeting someone,
someone that strikes my fancy,
I take my soul out of my pocket--
expecting them to do the same.

My soul,
like origami that has been folded and refolded,
is worn at the edges and moth eaten,
has burns and scorch marks,
alcohol and coffee stains,
greasy finger prints,
smudge marks,
and small bits torn from it…

Together-- there on the street,
we compare souls on the corners of the world.
Some souls are almost new--
starched and pressed,
in a vacuum sealed bag.

Others, when taken out,
are even more used up than mine--
some break and blow apart in the wind
like glowing confetti,
leaving a dull grey stare in its owner’s pale eyes.

Then after we have compared souls
I fold mine back into its origami balloon shape
and put it back
in my pocket.

Souls are not a different distant object
they do not fit in a lock box.
Every act of compassion…
or apathy,
hunger…
or gluttony,
love…
or ****,
The mundane…
or the extraordinaire
creates a new mark,
a new fold,
a different shape,
a different you….

...than existed just a moment before.

What is love?
Is it a feeling that makes us happy?
Or is it something that makes other people happy?

Is it a person we can touch?
Or something far out of our reach?
Is it the struggle to make others happy?
Or is it self understanding?

Love can be the best thing in the world,
but it can also be the worst thing ever.
Do we even understand love?
Or we just merely begin to know it's true meaning?

Love is complex for us too understand
and too powerful for us to control.
It has a funny way of showing itself
and can be disappointing.
Soo...what is love?

But more importantly
What do you want from it?

Go sit up all night,
Go sit up on the Arm's wall.

I'm going to take it all in
and think about it all.

The moonlight on the water
striking me in the eye,

Mighty Blue Heron
under intermittent sky.

Ducks knocking back shellfish,
Fuelling up for the flight into fall.

Here I sit, quiet, on a stone,
so glad to be on the Arm's wall.

Alabaster white skin pinkening
Jade eyes moistening as my ministrations continue
Electricity crackling between us
The last two on this earth
Two who are and always will be
One
Ruby red cupid’s bow parts
No sound escapes
Just a breath taken
For we do not need words
We feel We touch We play We tease
Each other
Until the dawn breaks
Sunrise dappling across our bodies
Erotically tattooing us

while waiting for the next girl in barnes & noble you can pull out an anatomy book and trace my bones like you wish you could have done before when it was still a viable option
you inched her name into our conversations because it tasted like honey and devil's food cake on your tongue, looked away when i begged for answers
left me writing you letters you never read and calling your name and wishing you good morning like the good girl i wanted to be even though i’d grown so weak
behind your frames who did you see when you saw me? i want to know, i want to know if the guy before saw the same wide-eyed half-smiling half-crying picture of naivety
i hate sensing patterns
you knew
you knew
you knew
but you did it anyway
i knew
i knew
i knew
the ending very well
and i let it happen anyway as if i didn’t know any better
i kept waiting for the broken traffic light to change.
i shivered because my cardigan was too thin,
high-low chiffon skirt pulling an unwanted marilyn and sending chills as i stepped onto the platform,
phone in my hand at 63%, got texts from everybody but you
body trembling on the walk home under the moonless sky.
from now on trusting is going to feel like an olympic sport
i've never been that athletically adept but i'll learn to pole vault the hell away next time when i see the signs loud and flagrant.
third time's the charm right?

I was anemic and you were O-. Life was draining from my eyes and you were my vital oasis. I needed you. You were right for me, right?

You were the universal donor to alleviate my sadness, and I accepted you without question. I let your blood consume my own. Because your blood was simultaneously filling me with oxygen, without you I couldn’t breathe. I needed you. You were right for me, right?


But for every drop of blood you contributed to my body, a new tear drop fell. Every drop of blood whispered a new insecurity. You filled me with your own self-doubt serving to emphasize my own. But not once did I wince at the pinch of the needle, or cringe at the sight of the IV. I needed you. You were right for me, right?

But so often times we fall for O- when we are AB+, because they feel right, because they seem perfect. And we fall because without those 6 quarts of blood we may cease to exist. We forget that our heart can beat alone without someone else’s name pumping through our veins. O- blood has common side-effects of insecurity and sadness that overpower the feeling of limited livelihood.

Wait for your AB+. It’s worth it. I promise.

~m.k.