My heart beats faster
Than it should
As i lay next to you
And i notice a change in your breath
It’s ’cause we both know we want more
Than just laying next to each other
And we know we’ll give in
To a certain point
Suddenly your lips are nearly touching
And you make no move to move away
And i ask you if you wish you could kiss me
You take a few nervous breaths
Before you answer-
Yes and more (i’m paraphrasing)
And then we let everything happen
Except the kiss
And everything else you said
it’s like we don’t even speak the same
like we’re strangers
who’ve always known each other
but pretend not to
because being true
telling the truth
we would risk getting hurt
i used to be able to take that risk with
used to let you in
but maybe i did it for the wrong reason
i thought if i let you in
that you would do the same for me
how do i let go
of wanting you to love me?
And suddenly I loved you.
I know I should have always,
I just didn’t though.
You loved me too soon
and I loved you too late.
If only we could have met in the middle.
And suddenly we are finding out what we mean
to each other.
I can’t hear the truth because it will break
I hold on too tight;
teach me to let go.
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
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
I hate your leaving footprints in the snow.
*I think I may have expanded this into a longer poem at some point, but I don’t know for sure. If I come across it, I will post and link hopefully.
Tell me about him.
He was sixteen once,
but then again, maybe he’s only ever been
He loves motorcycles.
Ink under skin, all over.
Vaguely remember owls,
the taste of tobacco on his lips.
The scent of bourbon
as he exhales into my hair.
Rough hands rest gently
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
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.
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.
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
Because that’s what they do
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.
The silver doe,
I want it tattooed
on my right forearm.
Of course “Always.”
It’s a nod to Severus’ love
but also my love
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
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
But now the world can know
and later they’ll know me
by the mark on my arm,
the Life Mark,
the Love Mark.
You don’t sing in church anymore,
that makes me a little sad.
And I wish you could hear me sing
in the kitchen at midnight
when you’re not home.
You say a soft, “Hi,”
and I wonder why
your arms haven’t been around
My rib cage and soft belly
ache for your arms.
Your alarm goes off,
your alarm goes off,
your alarm goes off,
and I just wanna let you sleep.
The world can wait for you,
they won’t move on without you,
maybe the universe
stands still when you’re not there.
And maybe we all hold our breath
until you come back around.
something to revolve around,
but it shouldn’t be like that.
Where you lead
I might follow,
even into danger
Snap back to reality
knock you down a peg or two,
to keep myself alive
and safely down from the ledge.