It’s always felt fragile. How many words Until we get to the ones I don’t want to hear? Tell me instead That you like my eyes And you want to hold me In the middle of the night. That’s what I’ll try to hold onto When you tell me You’re choosing someone Who isn’t me.
I wanted to be the one with the key and the same sinking darkness. To be the one that kept you up at night, while you bared your teeth and wrote pros and cons lists. So desperately I hoped to be your third vice, right after red wine and Adderall. I wanted to be the first thingContinue reading “Vices | Poetry”
Red-laced eyelids, dewy fingertips. Heaven’s never felt this fictional amongst warm-blooded bodies. It’s better down here with foggy lips and sudden smoothness, craving cool touches to the knee. How could the sky possibly encompass the weight of our limbs so easily pressed and undressed? When there is already a readied mouth opening andContinue reading “In the Dark | Poetry”
Like crashing waves The sound of life beginning Only makes sense in a storm. It starts as a whisper, then rises and rushes, Lifting my breath to match its own. Deeply in all my limbs The rhythm dances until I can open my eyes again.
I like your softness, It surprises me. And your child’s voice, your honest voice, I didn’t know you could sound like that. (This is the best part. Holding you.) I like when you ramble, And you keep me up at night, And your familiarity, How easy it is to slip intoContinue reading “I like your softness | Poetry”
I feel the need to be bare around you, You with bareness feels natural to me, You and I with the bare need to be us.
Maybe if I stroke their brow Their ego Their foreskin Maybe if I laugh at their jokes Their fumbling fingers Their false intellectualism Maybe if I ignore my doubts My midnight ghosts My morning after boredom I can convince myself they’ll cure Two AM nostalgia Three AM regret And four AM fantasiesContinue reading “Maybe if I stroke their brow | Poetry”