Untitled 052519

Sitting on our neighbor’s couch

Kinda drunk

Sure if I lay my head down

I’ll fall asleep

And she’ll embarrassingly wake me

I’m waiting for you

To come home

To bring our little ones

I’m afraid I’ll fall for you tonight

Crawl into your bed

Beg you to love me

Or at least pretend you do

I miss you

It’s not the voice of the wine

It’s me

The very heart of me

All of me loves all of you

Every damn bit

Untitled (041318)

failing and flailing thru this life grasping for your hand but i can’t find it in the dark even though it is clearly right in front of me and you’re waiting and waiting for me to interlace my fingers with yours so that you can keep my head above water for me because it seems that you don’t want me to drown afterall perhaps because you still want to put me back together but how can you even do that when you don’t know where i’ve hidden all the glass and bloody words that used to be my heart you’re collecting them all in a pretty vase but i can never be whole again because somethings will forever be lost some girls will forever be broken and shredded

Glimmer (041819)

You give me a glimmer of hope

And I do not believe

It is false hope

Your hands linger when they shouldn’t

Where they shouldn’t

If you’re a little drunk

You’re more honest than you intend

You said you believe in me

I believe you – you were drunk

I thought about hugging you

And you hugged me

As if you knew I was thinking it

We speak without saying words at all

Your eyebrows-

And I close my eyes

And you’re right – I know

You tell me everything

When anyone looking in

Would’ve thought you were silent

tell me what you thought about when you were gone…

i’m the original grass

that wasn’t green enough

and i don’t understand

why you’re singing

one of my favorite songs

but you’re still sleeping

away from home

two nights a week

i’m not the one

and you’re never in love

i’m never honest

and she’ll never be enough

every other line

is a lie

and i’m still broken

still in love

with a backpack full

of bricks

waiting for you

and i to lay them down

Daily Prompt: Wonder/030918

Do you ever wonder what would have happened

if we could have made it work?

If we really had tried everything?

We gave up too soon, I know that.

And I still wonder if it will be me and you

again.

I have hope.

And I’ll always carry that hope,

in my backpack full of bricks,

that I’ll save because they’re ours

to build on.

I’m strong enough to carry more,

more than these bricks and more than my hope;

tell me everything and I’ll carry your tears

next to your joy.

I hope you wonder about me,

I hope you carry hope.

 

In reponse to

Wonder

Untitled/021917

Tell me about him.
He was sixteen once,
but then again, maybe he’s only ever been
sixteen.
He loves motorcycles.
And women,
three women.
One me.
Ink under skin, all over.
Vaguely remember owls,
screech owls.
Cigarettes,
the taste of tobacco on his lips.
The scent of bourbon
as he exhales into my hair.
Rough hands rest gently
on me.
A motorcycle accident,
I lived it a thousand times
before it ever happened.
“You hungry?” and “How are you?”
Whispers in the middle of the night
between arms
that keep holding on.
Promises to our children
that we’ll do the best we can
and then try to do better,
and those same promises
are for me too.
He’s twenty-five, a good man.

Motorcycle Reflections/021217

It’s like running in the wind and the cool night air.
And I can feel your body-heat between my thighs;
that’s how I know I could never ride with someone who didn’t love me.
The city lights look so beautiful,
and I’ve seen them before.
I’ve seen them before,
but not like this.
Every stop sign, the warmth of the engine escapes into my jacket.
Not everyone who rides dies.
And I guess that’s why
it’s not “ride and die,”
but “ride or die”
because could we ever really live
if motor oil didn’t flow thru our veins?
I wish there was a tape recorder
in my brain so I could capture every thought,
every line of this poem
written on the back of your bike,
terrified, safe, home
on the back of your bike,
bought on accident, bought on credit.
Contrast: the wind rips into me
uninvited, unwelcome, unwanted.
But who ever really wanted the wind?
Maybe the wind is the world’s breath,
reminding us we’re alive,
on the back of everything we’ve ever hated.
And I’m not in love with motorcycles,
just in love with a different part of you.

*NOTE: I wrote this poem sometime around midnight or 1 a.m., 15-ish hours later I was in a motorcycle accident, my very first accident. Do I still feel the same about motorcycles as I did as I wrote this poem? Of course.

Ode to Lost Gloves/020417

I’m sorry you were lost and left behind
I’d pick you all up and make you
Into a sculpture if I wasn’t so lazy
My heart breaks for you
For your soft fingers
That will never be filled with flesh again
Your owners have gone on with their lives
They will not remember you
Instead they’ll buy another pair
At Kmart
Because that’s what they do
Consume
Consume
Consume
That’s what we all do
Lose something, we buy another
What will happen when the gloves are all gone?
No one ever loses a pair
Only one at a time
Except I do know someone
Who lost a pair, more than once
If hearts were like gloves, we’d all be broken
Maybe hearts are gloves, two are useful together, they make sense
One without the other will always just be lost.

Patronus/Lumos

The silver doe,
I want it tattooed
on my right forearm.
Of course “Always.”
written underneath.
It’s a nod to Severus’ love
for Lily,
but also my love
for you.
And deer earned a place
in my heart long ago,
when we moved
to a tiny little town
named for the skins
that men hung there.
But I’ve never seen
the animal on this mountain;
others say they have.
I saw them more often
in the city where we met,
at the school where we met.
So really this docile creature
intersected my soul
long before
the house on Comanche Drive,
long before I knew
how Severus loved Lily,
long before I picked a tiny reindeer
to hang on a tiny tree,
long before I became
anonymous.
But now the world can know
my name
and later they’ll know me
by the mark on my arm,
the Life Mark,
the Love Mark.