Dragonfly

Photo by David Hofmann on Unsplash

We dance together

underneath

a murky, blue-black sky

praying that the stars

will align in our favor.

Whether delusion or gift

I offer my wings

for a taste of the earth.

Your hands press into

my curves and indentations

with mammalian intensity.

I am wearing only

the heat of your skin in proximity

but somehow I still have this sense

of wanting to undress myself

as if I can’t abide the barriers

of flesh, blood, and bone.

The moon languishes

in a nest of loose, gray wool.

Like a dragonfly

she anticipates our movements

and wherever she lands

madness soon follows.

I am wearing only

the impressions of our bodies

as they twist and turn

to a savage chorus of heartbeats

and stomping feet.

I want you to gut me

like a small fish, metaphorically speaking,

so that nothing remains concealed by a veil

of materialism and objectification.

I want to be loved at the marrow,

in the buttery richness

of my innermost voids.

I need a man who understands

all the shapes and dimensions

a soul can assume when paired

with a human body.

There is a whole world

of experiences eager to pass

through my senses.

Sublime or savage

I want to move as the moon

through the tides, phases

and erotic overlays

of an imprecise darkness.

My stomach issues have returned after a rather short period of remission.

Animal

Photo by Donnie Ray Crisp on Unsplash

In the half darkness

I sleep naked,

your body

wrapped around my body

like a fisherman’s net.

We fill up

the whole bed

with our animal heat

but there is too much

punctuation between us

to ever find that familar

animal rhythm.

I close my eyes

when you masturbate

because I usually can’t shake

the humiliation of never

being chosen.

The room

smells

as if it were

an extension of us

and most nights

you press your face

into my hair and breathe

in my scent

as if it were a drug.

You seem to love me

but not in all the ways

I want to be loved.

I miss you,

not because you are

absent

but because

you are not all there

you are not

in everything

you are half-way.

Some nights

I am so there

that I can feel myself

merging with your pulse

and the shadows

which crawl from one corner

of the room to the other.

In that sinister state

of primal alertness

I want things

to happen to my body.

So I sleep

and I dream about you

and for a little while

it doesn’t make any difference

that it’s just my imagination.

I don’t want

to stand still

forever

I need to be seen,

known, experienced

in order to feel

that I am alive.

Love is not a game

of paper, rock, scissors.

Whereby I am always paper

and you are either

abusing or abused.

It’s about communion

and there is absolutely nothing

unholy about sex.

Pearl

Photo by JJ Jordan on Unsplash

If I wait for you

there will be more pearls in me

than there are names in the Bible.

I will be valuable

but razor-sharp

in my opalescence.

Deep down though I will be

soft and sweet like the sea

and who among men

could sustain the currents of a woman

who seeks validation

in the bright and outrageous act of love?

Soon I will have more

value than substance.

Soon I will be

a wardrobe through

which the worlds of mankind pass

but never enter.

Soon I will be too lonely with war

to remember my original function.

Growing Back My Virginity

Photo by Oscar Ivan Esquivel Arteaga on Unsplash

In the blank, covetous darkness

you reach down like lightning

and the whole of my soul

surges forward in a greeting

that is simultaneously

obscene and disconsolate.

We both know that nothing

will come of your touch

but for several minutes

we bounce gently together

our bodies pressed tight

as a stack of porcelain plates.

In the heat of starvation

we evaporate slowly

and I hate to say it

but months of anticipation

have turned to something

that feels a lot like

dread and indifference.

If you crack my bones

you will find nothing

but ink and the cinders

of a once formidable fire.

I don’t want to be

forbidden, excepted,

a penumbra suspended

fitfully between two worlds.

Add Me

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

My heart became

a magnifying glass,

a weapon of light

and ongoing deformation.

I do not mean to burn with love

but I am desperate

and lacking in imagination.

All eyes and no soul

my heart looked into yours

and fell against its little bone door

with fear and trembling.

If I let you in

I will never be free of myself.

Eyes opened or closed

you will always see me.

Love became a thing,

an extraordinary and incomprehensible thing.

Even if I give doubly of myself

I will never be able to earn it

because that is not part of the exchange.

I always seem to be missing

something and that absence

creates a distance between myself

and the object of my interest.

How can 1 plus 1 be of more value

than 1 times 1?

Multiplication seems so powerful

until the numbers are forced

to confront the possibility of solitude.

Maybe we need each other to grow.

Maybe that’s why my value never rises.

When I think about it

I have been searching

for someone

that I can occupy.

I want to be a ghost

in your home.

To be with you,

to be seen and not seen,

to possess intermittently,

and above everything to dream.

I have been struggling with Depression fiercely lately even though I feel I have so much to rejoice and have been on some lovely adventures lately and have also received tremendous support and love.

Loneliness

Photo by Geoffroy Hauwen on Unsplash

I wait for you

as if it were myself

that were absent.

It is strange

how a body

filled with blood and air

and countless,

infinitesimally small lifeforms

can feel so empty.

Every moment can be

traced back to you,

especially those moments

which have not taken place.

I wanted you to be there

spilling past my margins

like sunlight through a window.

In the presence

of ecstatic couples

I think of how it might feel

to connect heart to heart

with another human being

and it haunts me.

Given the right angle

and the right intention

I feel certain

that our bodies

could become singular.

But the stars never overlap

and it seems

that I am meant

to occupy my own

solitary space indefinitely.

If ever my light

should touch you

I hope that you

will think of me

and remember as I do

all the things

that never happened.

Breathe

Photo by Allef Vinicius on Unsplash

We fell

together

like words on a page.

Breath caught;

in the margins

between our bodies.

The biggest moments

in our lives

can only be

conveyed through a whisper,

or a SHOUT. My heart

says it all.

In my mouth

a hint of oyster,

tears half-salted. I can’t breathe.

My fingers dance

through your hair and I

find a rhythm

and I think maybe

you instigated

the whole thing

but it’s still music.

The kind of music

that makes you,

fall in love.

Heart to heart. I exhale.

Bodies breaking gently,

pressing and decompressing

like waves. I hold my breath.

We cling

lips, fingers, tongue

pausing

to steal a breath.

Your skin

touches my skin.

It’s too hot

to think.

DON’T THINK.

Just smile and float.

There’s something

stuck in my heart,

to feel is a blessing

and a curse.

We are all

the people in the world

when we are

tangled up together.

We are magenta.

My feelings

feel infinite.

I push you away.

I inhale deeply.

The air is cold

without your breath

inside of it.

It’s not enough.

There was no before

because I am sure

that I didn’t know

how to breathe

until you kissed me.

You were

my first breath,

I am alive

because of you.

I am auditing a free poetry class. Just started. Trying to understand rhythm but I have zero musical sense so I am not sure if I have achieved the effect I was after.

Lesser Gods

Photo by Ganapathy Kumar on Unsplash

If I have learned anything

it is that you can’t pull

a reflection out of a mirror.

What we call love

is simply the recognition

of self within another.

Hate is when that same person

disappoints your expectations

which is inevitable

because no two humans

are exactly the same.

I could be a sun

with my own heat and gravity

or I could be the moon

which follows.

If I knew how to be the sun

I would be the sun

but I possess

the physiognomy of the moon.

My mercurial blood burns

just as much going in

as it does coming out.

I never wear the same face twice

and my moods are always

tinged with melancholia.

A smile is just a little bird

with its wings outstretched.

Tears are punctuation

they appear whenever

an emotion gets too big

to cram into a single breath.

I am prepared to live

the exact same day

for the rest of my life.

This is what it means

to put your faith in lesser Gods.

I found myself in your eyes,

that little sliver of divinity

which speaks of union

and I fell in circles around you.

If I love this man enough

then I might just forgive myself

for a lifetime of neuroses and repetitions.

Only to forgive myself

it is necessary to keep him

and to keep him

it is necessary

to cut away the pieces of myself

that don’t fit.

Find an object to worship

and grow small with redundancy

or find the God within yourself

and become a universe

miraculous beyond measure.

Those are your only two choices.