Preview of the Wordle

I anchor myself
to your tumultuous frame,
a little sea forming
between my thighs.
Your potent root,
wet with hunger,
searches deep.

In the inanition of darkness
you set fire to my skin.
I rock against you,
a shell of craving,
of curt, ravenous whispers.

Your touch summons me
from the sheets;
back-carving contortions,
a bridge of exaltation.
A beautiful dream
of flowers wasting beneath
two carnivorous satellites,
I promise to love you after
just as now.

I can feel
your startled breath
tickling my face.
Your mouth
cherry blossom-soft
presses against my mouth
and one by one
all my beautiful words
fall to pieces
in the swagger of your smile.

Pull me under the water
like a whirlpool
with your unruly tongue.
Kiss me until
the air melts
from my lungs.
Go wild in me,
shake the doubt
from my immaculate heart.

Your pulse swells
with every gulp,
a crescendo of heat
and thunder.
Stars detonate
in milky hollows
and we are remade
an atom at a time.
I nod in and out
of consciousness,
blueprints converging.
I find my soul pinned
to the constellations
of your scared, hungry eyes.

You Are The One Wordle #200

I sense you in the dark,
in the weight of stars,
in dreams both
evanescent and obfuscating.
I place my faith
in the realness of you.
You are the one.

I want more
than a breath can hold.
I want to capture
your prayers in my mouth
and suck them until bursting.
Soft and verecund,
I want to lick
the wounds inside of you.
You are the one.

I make sketches of your hands
just so I have something to hold.
I want to wear you underneath
the simpering halo of dawn.
I can’t fathom your touch.
You are the one.

I am lost in forever.
I am lost in the spaces
where patience breaks.
I don’t know why
I am in such a hurry.
Everything you do
makes me love you more.
I want to eat the hours
inside of you.
You are the one.

Wordle #197

My lips stumble
under a blood orange sky.
My bruised and blessed breath
breaks apart in repetition.
You plow me like a field,
patient until bursting.
I swallow your seed,
your vox populi,
your furnace full of stars.

I am a beautiful way to drown.
The ocean in you
feeds the ocean in me.
I will always find a place for you,
a place where everything
is taken whole
and nothing is rejected.

I watch your lips sulking
beneath a blameless horizon
our silhouettes eerie in the half-light,
our silhouettes throbbing hot
like a meteor shower.

–

my writing is still off

Wordle #196

All I ever do is write
but words can only
take you so far.
Sometimes the air curves
like a waning satellite,
sometimes it takes
blood even to breathe.

My intuition falters
in the face of my fears.
I have forgotten
what it is to be
autonomous.
Advice never comes
free of expectation.
How do I stay wild
and still belong?

I am just a series
of regressions.
Sometimes it takes
greatness just to survive
from one moment to the next.
I gave it all away
without a thought
as to how I would ever
replace it and I just fell apart.

Now you say to me
do it again.
Do it again.
Give it up.
No one gets to have
No one gets to be
Writing just isn’t
something that
you can afford.
Be useful
go and shine
someone else’s shit.

Wordle #195

I have not been
totally honest with you.
I have held my hands
to prevent my words
from crashing into you.
You are lovely as you are,
a confession wouldn’t make
you any more or less so.

The moon is so low
I have only to reach out
and I could take her
into my trembling arms.
When I dance with her
I think of all the ways
we could fall together.

My heart turns cartwheels.
I find ways to occupy my hands,
my time, my fragile, augean ego
just to keep my emotions
from my spilling over.
My sleeves are stained.
My sleeves are red and torn.
I pull the covers over my head.

The stars are so close
I can smell the smoke
rising from their golden skin.
Each breath is a prayer.
I count them under my breath.
I count them until
the numbers cease to make sense.

I spend my days
breaking myself down
with my fingertips
and a conjured image
of your gorgeous smile.
I would burn to cinders
if ever I found myself
underneath your body.

I am pretty only
when I am alive.
I have not been
totally honest with you.
My hands shake
even though they don’t speak
as my heart wills them to.
What is a goddess
if not a woman
overflowing with love?
I will keep my poems to myself.
I will wait until our destinies collide.

Wordle #194

Stridulate with anxiety

I search your face

for permission to speak.

I don’t know why

it has become so hard

to talk to you.

I don’t know why

I keep forgetting

who you are.

I don’t know why

I let your words

conceal my beliefs.

–

My heart is miles wide

and riddled with cracks.

My heart is wabi-sabi.

My heart is beautiful

when in use.

–

I wash the blood

from your wounds.

Wounds big as windows

but too dark to see through.

I was the girl with the stiletto tears.

I was the girl that spoke

about extraordinary love.

I was the girl who scared

you senseless.

–

We are walking backwards

in a room that smells of copper,

in a room wet with virtue.

I am your downfall.

I am lost in your sadness,

in your infinite guilt.

–

The soles of my feet

are bruised and torn.

I have walked for miles.

I have walked for ages.

I have prioritized your pain

over my own happiness

and you have done the same.

–

You attach your thoughts

to everything.

You eat up all the space

inside of me.

You let me throw

my love into a black hole.

You feel only

what you think

you deserve to feel

and you haven’t

felt even half

of what I’ve given.

Wordle #193 “Take Your Time”

I want to take my time kissing you,
to slide my tongue between
the seams of your naked smile
and drink of your plaintive breath.
I want to taste the way you taste.

Let your smile cling
to my overexposed heart.
Take my words and wrap them around your tongue.
Feel without speaking
the miracle of your soul
interlaced with mine.

I want you to surrender
between my knees,
to pierce me like running water,
to spill into my darkness
hunger-blind and ineffable.
It doesn’t matter where we meet
only that you arrive
when the time comes.

I’ll make this easy.
I’ll take my time
making love to you.
I’ll fill my heart with stars
and I’ll burn brighter than the moon
so that wherever you go
you’ll always find your way
back to me.

Wordle #189

She kicks at the air,
her shoes falling
to the ceiling below.
Her beautiful,
upside down smile
tears at the edges.
She thinks of him
while she drinks
her morning tea.

She can sense his pain.
She lets the tentacles
of his unresolved grief
coil around heart until
she is blood-drowning.

She thinks of him
while screaming
face down in her pillow.
She can sense his lust.
She offers her body,
a velvet wrapped engine.
He opens her like a gift
and when he has had his fun
he leaves her unattended.

Night after night
they lie together
in separate rooms
eating of each other’s wounds.

She fills her pockets
with scurrying Gods
and yesterday’s myths.
She is star-bright
and withershins.
She can sense his thirst.
She lets him drink
from her crooked roots.
He drinks from her
until she is dry and cracking.

She thinks of him
while standing untouched
in a perfectly green circle
at the grocery store checkout.
She can sense his hunger.
She lets him eat
from her heart.
He eats her raw.
He swallows her
without tasting.

She thinks of him
as she ties pastel feathers
to the bushes
in her metastasizing garden.
She is accessible.
He procrastinates.
She abstains.
He bedevils her.

(based on something I watched/listened to recently. Still reads WIP to me)

Wordle #188

She watched him cross the street. Her eyes shimmered behind a veil of precipitation. Soi-disant jewels clung to the tips of her eyelashes. She didn’t bother to blink them away, afraid that if she closed her eyes he would disappear. He was beautiful in stillness but in motion he was the perfect combination of grace and carnality. The city emptied itself and then ceased altogether to imprint upon her senses. His presence was all that her mind could hold. The sunlight came down in streaks more silver than gold.

She had never managed to carry a thought to completion. Thoughts, she found, were tremendous breeders. A single thought could spawn a hundred more. She measured herself, not in moments, but in generations. She housed infinities. Her mind was full of soap, of delicate bubbles skidding and erupting endlessly. She was a muse, disguised as a poet. He was love without reservation. She stood before him stripped of all but instinct. He was the sort to pursue a dream with the full weight of his being.

He stopped in front of her, smiling. She felt his fingers wrap around her wrist gently. He pulled her close, his breath hovering against her ear. She saw that he stooped when he spoke and for a moment their faces were more or less the same height. His voice was deep and warm. It started her heart pumping again. Only now instead of one heart she seemed to have two on either side of her head and instead of an angel and a devil, she had two bumblebees muttering incoherently. She inhaled. Audibly. Shakily. The sound was both delicate and obscene. It was the sound of lace being torn away in a fit of passion. When it was clear that she would follow him, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and cradled her against his chest. She did not inquire about their destination. Wherever he went she would follow. She traced the lines of his palm absently with her thumb as they walked. He smiled at her from time to time out of the corner of his eye. He needed only to know that she was there.

Wordle #187

I am face deep
in the wash basin
peeling back the scars
that section off my heart.
The water therein
Is composed of my tears,
of stars dissolved
by bluster and longing.

My thighs are spoon-smooth
and firm as nearly ripened fruit.
I have spent
the entire morning
chasing birds
in the camouflaged highways
of an abandoned coppice
behind my house.

I have white, full breasts
like twin satellites
barely contained
inside an indigo dress.
I have the time
to break myself down
and reassemble the pieces.
On the inside
I am completely naked.

I am curious
about human nature.
I am curious
about you.
I am like the S in steel,
all curves and romance.
We could lie down
together in the grass
and reposition ourselves
in imitation of passing clouds.
We could make halos
of pedestrian fires.
In other words we could
become something to each other
that we could never be apart.

I know things,
impossible things
like how your fingers feel
when pressed to my lips.
I know how long it takes
for your smile to unfold,
the bittersweet chronaxia
that divvies up each
and every one
of our actions and reactions.
I know that a time will come
when we occupy
the same spaces.