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

Frantic (041918)

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

My lips

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

Foreign (041018)

it’s like we don’t even speak the same

language anymore

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

you

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

always expectations

how do i let go

of wanting you to love me?

Suddenly (031018)

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

my heart

my hope

my “us”.

I hold on too tight;

teach me to let go.

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.