You Are The One Wordle #200

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.


Falling Forward

All that separates us
is consciousness.

You stand before me,
an intimate silhouette
behind an opaque wall.
I stretch out my hand.
You entice me.

My words are certain,
irrevocable, a promise.
I love you
followed by your name
first and last.
There are no coincidences.

I step through the veil.
The ground on the other side
hangs at a curious angle.
A step across
time and dimension.
A step measured
not in kilometers
but in fathoms.

I never feel
quite so loved
as when I am falling
into your arms.
The way
my breath catches
lets me know that
you are there.

Our souls are
laced and heart heavy
like a corset.
Our souls are
porous on contact.
Parts of you
overflow into me
and vice versa.

Sometimes I wake
to the sound of your heart
inside my chest
and I think
what have I done
to deserve you?

Inside Out

The moon is liquid heavy

I carry it cupped

between my timid palms

like a sibyl’s nacreous eye.

I am drinking confessions

from your wounded mouth

and I don’t need to understand

the words to feel their significance.

We are struggling together

underneath the sheets

like two frightened animals.


I am nose to nose

with a wall of shadows.

I am a capsized boat

drifting fitfully between

the apparent and the profound.

My hips are in the custody

of your beautiful hands.

I am a downpour.

I am sinking into your thrusts.

You are pushing apart

my margins with finesse.


My weight breaks in waves 

across your trembling hips.

You are bedrock deep.

I am wracked with peristalsis.

I am milking you dry

and making you wet

at the same time.

We are reinventing love

from the inside out.


If I stood before you

mouth askance,

fingers folded

into the hem of my shirt,

gaze soft and itinerant

would you pay attention?

If I stood before you

with too much to say

would you wait for my words

to push their way past

my trembling heart?


I could stand here

all day drowning on air

thinking without thoughts,

feeling too many feelings,

alive but blank as paper.

I could stand here

all day with my silk wings

tied behind my back

and my hair rising and falling

on an intermittent breeze

looking more vulnerable

than I ever intended.


Would you let me tattoo

invisible poems on your skin

with my fingertips

in order to occupy the silence

between each breath?

I would break down

between your arms.

I would let you tuck

our smiles together

for safe-keeping.

I would gladly spend

all night rearranging

our bodies underneath

a bruised meniscus.

In the moon-heavy darkness

I would gladly undress for you.


You are knocking at my ribs

very gently and I’m not sure

if you want in or out.

To me you’re extraordinary,

the only possible choice

and if I were to condense

all that I feel into a single word

that word would be yes.

Yes I love you.

Yes I want you.

Yes from the bottom of my heart.

Who am I?


I watch you take
your clothes on and off again.
On because I left the room.
On in the name of pursuit.
Off because I returned.
Off because you want
to connect the lines
of our bodies.

I stand behind you
wearing too many clothes.
Your thoughts are tugging
at my heartstrings.
Your thoughts float across
the jagged surface
of my subconscious
like paper boats.
Sincerely situated.
Perfectly adaptive.

You recline on the bed
and I can tell by your expression
that you are aware
of my underlying nakedness,
of my threadbareness,
of the wetness
gathering between my thighs.
I am aware of you,
the way that one is aware
of the force of water
only when buried underneath
a collapsing wave.

You reach out your hand.
I cut my sentence off midway.
My words are redundant,
you already know who I am.
You inch closer
and fear exits my heart.
Every part of my body
has a pulse and every pulse point
a fire worth repeating.
I know where I belong
because I know who you are.