Love Letter #21

Dear DM,

Your smile reaches deep

between my thighs.

Eyes, soul-searching,

just shy of the nadir.

Your cool, indecent breath

against my skin.

Petal-soft and plump enough to eat

you pursue me like a gift.

–

The touch of your words

is inaudible and incendiary.

I fuck your face gently,

the tip of your tongue,

the secret language of lovers.

(it is all French to me)

–

An avalanche of milky stars,

of endearments tossed

into a covetous flame.

I am breaking beneath

the pressure of your hands

holding my knees apart.

The pearl between your teeth

my pulse strong, 

back-breaking, sacrilegious.

It’s not god’s name I’m calling.

Let’s take our time.

Let’s lose sight

of all the nothings between.

Let’s become a single entity.

–

There is no part of you

that I do not want to take

intimately and as my own.

There is no part of me

that I would not surrender

to you whole.

–

I want you to leave marks

so that when the sun comes

I will find within those

bruised constellations

a means of returning

to heaven through you.

With all the I am you DF

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Wordle #207

The vale ossifies.

My voiceless eyes well with tears

sharp as pine needles.

A summit of pain

my heart shimmers, mirror-grey

and ineffable.

My bruised ego sinks

on reflection, wet-black boot

extended skyward.

I swing back and forth,

ropes tearing at my ankles,

an in-human scythe.

A walk across fields

of stars, a dream-given

change of perspective.

–

This poem was influence by The Hanged Man image on tarot cards.

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 #191

I wear masks six feet thick.

I wear masks while running

in a meretricious wheel.

My heart goes in circles

and my head along with it.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

I wear masks that don’t quite fit

because deep down

I am still fucking human.

 

I am two eyes blinking

earnestly in a crowded room.

I am a pair of worn out shoes

tumbling in a metal drum.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Sometimes I dabble 

in aeromancy.

Replicating my replications

like a hamster blind

with the need to conceive.

I am nothing new.

I am entirely different.

 

The clock reads 11:11.

My smokey, Chesire-grin

hesitates from the shadows.

Ours is a desire

that never sleeps.

We dream and gather.

My synapses go

boom, boom, boom

whenever you enter me.

I could get lost in you.

You make me feel so deep.

 

I see past

your birch-skin facade

and your beautiful foliage.

I see beyond

your virtues and your failings.

I see the better part

of myself in you.

Outside of my window

the sun is a stiletto stabbing 

at the corners of my eyes.

I am wide awake

and your voice

is in my head

soft as satin.