Spinning in Time

smoke + desire

Your pyromaniacal fingers

Pretty little matchsticks

Igniting me

Illuminating me

Striking against bone 

Smoldering beneath flesh

Denaturing every cell in my body

You are the fire burning within me

The consumption of my entirety

Until I am nothing but parched

Nothing but yearning

miracle

the scent of you

warm and sultry against my collarbones

i remember how flustered

you would get at the sight of them

how your fingers, grazing slowly

along the length of them

would cause your lips to part

and your mind to spin

i had never experienced

such intimate passion

how you poured your love

into every nook and cranny

of this intricate heart

i lie in bed

finding little pieces of you here

and there

wearing you, on my collarbones

wishing the scent of you

could summon you back

from whatever alternate reality

you escaped to

where your fingers don’t trace my spine

as we fall asleep each night

where I’m filled with so much of you

and you are nowhere to be found

prompt 1. introspection

i am all alone

once again

i spend my nights

lying awake

contemplating the present

trying to forget the past

daydreaming about the future

not certain of anything

but the understanding

everything is just

as it is meant to be

brief encounters with beauty

fierce and excitable. she is one with the wild and i am in awe. artistic and skillful with her hands. she looks like a kid in a candy store, when she touches me. her touch speaking a language we are both fluent in. she is  fun. the kind of fun that makes you exhaustless– makes you feel invincible. my sadness never stood a fighting chance in her presence. her energy so radiant it has warmed the very core of me. she is everything i want. a rebellious spirit. she makes me want to live for today. for today with her. she sees me. with dark pools of brown sugar and honey eyes. i’m on the highest of sugar highs. she is a giver. though i know she’s given so much already. she has been hurt. i want to ask her things. and i understand. she may answer in words i have never heard before. still, i want to know everything she wants to say. study the language of her spirit. her smile draws people in. her heart   keeps them coming back.

And I, blossom

You are a ray of sunshine

And I, a flower stretching outward

to bask in your ethereal beauty

A drop of dew glistening amongst the light

You are the light

And I, a fluttering honeybee

indulging in sweet floral nectar

You are honey

The sweetener of my days

And I, with a drop of your viscous love

am in a jovial, blissful daze

 

Soft Intentions

Be gentle with me

I am fragile from the past

I am fragile from tomorrow

Touch me with softer intentions

Than you’ve ever touched anyone

And this is the only way

That I will melt within your palm

Be gentle with your words

My heart was stitched up poorly

And the seams are worn

Stretching my hope too regularly

Believing in too many ghost

That only came to haunt me

The moment I thought they were gone

Be gentle with my soul

For it has seen darkness

And invited her to tea

My soul found beauty

In creaky floorboards

And mysterious silhouettes

Lounging in destruction and emptiness

My soul has loved darkness

And things I love

Have stayed with me

Long after they had left

So be gentle with my love

Share your light in my dark

Light a candle when you come home

And find me within the shadows

Becoming one with the night

Be gentle with yourself

Because you deserve softness

You deserve love that comes and stays

You deserve encouragement

You deserve tenderness

And I will be gentle with all of you

Because I have the softest intentions

My hands will always

Be pillows for your heart

And my body

Will always be a warm home

Welcoming your love

Writer’s Paradise

Where have the words gone

My inspiration seems to be on vacation

Fine dining with barely enough time

To soak in my surroundings

Washed away to a deserted island

To a paradise

Too perfect to capture in sentences

I am speechless

When her arms are around me

I lose myself

Within her gaze

And all thoughts cease

All words languish

Blissfully unaware

And wonderfully lost

In a world where dreams

Don’t measure up to reality

And reality is really

As good as it gets

Home

It’s been so long

Since we’ve been here

And still

Your sheets mold against my body

As if I had never been gone

Your arms wrap around me

As if you had never let go

And my eyes could never forget the beauty

Of watching yours dream

When Love Returns

Love will one day return

Better, happier, sweet

Love will say “I’m sorry”

Love will face defeat

Love will want to make changes

Lie flowers on your pain

Love has learned the art of patience

Love has changed her name

Love will ask forgiveness

And understand it may take time

Love will reach for your hand

Love will nurture your mind

Love will tell you

“I’m not perfect-

But for you, love, I’d try”

Mistakes are things we all make

But love will not tell you lies

Love will one day return

When you may have thought her extinct

Love will say your name again

And the sound will make you sing

Love will say “I’m here to stay,

and prove my love to be true”

Love will return the pieces of your heart

And stitch them back for you

The Big Bang

All of these things

That you and I leave unsaid

Are as numerous and as haunting

As stars

Curious little things

That burn holes into my mind

Like the universe

I want to know you

The vast beauty

And light

that encompasses

The whole of your soul

Like the universe

undefined

And incomparable

To any other form

That exist within my realm

Awestruck

Shattered

Craving

But understanding I may never know

All the things that ceased to exist

To create space for your radiant presence

Because things so disturbingly exquisite

Maybe aren’t created to be understood

But are here to evoke gratitude

The Last Sorry

Sorry about me, I say

Sorry my words drop out of my mouth like grenades

Sorry I come off stronger than I like my morning coffee

Sorry my feelings are icky, sticky, sweet like syrup

Sorry my heart has such a mind of her own

And my mind is so submissive to her

Sorry I write about you

Like I’m writing some kind of holy text

To be studied

To be cherished

Sorry

For apologizing for who I am

The words running from my lips like a tic

Over and over again

Like an excuse,

Like a suit of armour

Made out of cotton

Getting stuck in my throat

Sorry I apologize for who I am

Sorry

For the last time

Everlasting

I wrote myself

Into my favorite love story

The one I’d dreamt of reading

The one I’d feared to believe

I left little pieces of my heart

in every page

Passion laced ink

Tainted every word

With raw desire

With fearless emotion

To be read again

With hungry eyes

The ending

I was never prepared to write

As my pens ran dry

I used my blood

To write another page

To keep my spirit alive

I wrote my soul away

To preserve it

In a beautiful piece

Of literary fiction

The safest place

for my hopeless heart

There it stays

Locked away

I’m still trying to decide

Whether I’ve captured my love

Or cursed it

To live within a story

That I cannot find the words

Deep enough

Heavy enough

Or sweet enough

To conclude

 

Cynicism

The moment you left

I could feel the sadness

Creep into my bones

Like the first cold day of winter

Like early onset arthritis

Like April showers

That become thunderstorms

Like the chilling presence

Of a darker spirit than my own

Something felt innately different

About my soul

My perspective

Transformed

Into something cynical

Something skeptical

Something sad

Something painful

Something like an ache

That won’t go away

That has made a home

In the places once reserved

Only for you

Your sacred temple

My very own heart

Infiltrated by the enemy

Sadness

Resides within me

And now I have to live with it

The uninvited guest

That has overstayed their welcome

And you opened the door

Unlatched the lock

Made your leave

Without a second thought

About what would claim

The space I’d saved

So faithfully

For you

 

Botanist Heart

If only I could pick these memories

These feelings

And press them

Between the pages of my heart

Like flowers in a scrapbook

 

Dark Magic

My nights

haunted by the remnants of memories

casted away by spells

spells not strong enough

to ward off the spirit of you

that creeps,

parasitically

within me.

Gestures

Her words, her actions—

equivalent to receiving a bouquet of flowers on my doorstep

every single day

 

The Prophet

My words come to me like prophecies
I cannot fathom the freedom they hold
Through time has come to show me
In the rubble and rubbish – they’re gold

My words are like the stars
Guiding me through every night
The lighthouse to save my drifting soul
The energy I have left to fight

When daylight comes, and I arise
My words are there like prayers
Dreams have been lost and hope has been shattered
But my words, like tires, are my spares

I’m not so alone – I’m a book of my own
I’m living every word that I dare
I must write my way into a better state
For my prophecy is what I declare

Boundless Love

When she closes her eyes
The world that she’s known
fades away
She is warmly welcomed
Into a dream
Of a lover who makes her feel like
She’s never seen the world
more clearly
With closed eyes
She’s running fearlessly
on tightropes
Battling the demons
That you have invited
Into her mind
With a sword carved and crafted
Out of love
And hope
And dreams
Her eyes are closed
But her heart is wide open
She’s breaking down the walls
That you have built around her soul
Smashing wildly with precision
Removing every tiny
Lingering piece of self-doubt
That you thought
you could tuck away
Inside of her heart
She’s extracting them all
With a steady hand
What a brave, strong woman
her eyes closed
her heart free.

Risking It All

I am just another one of my unfinished thoughts.
Maybe this is the reason that I cannot fully understand who I am.
I am a page torn out of an old journal.
A page with just enough potential to save. To-
Finish later.
I am the first two chords in the chord pattern of my favorite song.
My favorite song, that I’ve never had enough patience to learn how to play.
I am the luggage from last month’s vacation,
Slumped in the corner of my bedroom, untouched.
I am the 8,006 unread emails in my inbox,
That I’ve been too overwhelmed to deal with.
I am a victim of my own inability to commit,
To follow through, to take a risk.
Because I may fail.
I may fail.
So I am a record, that never gets to play side B.
The makeup that doesn’t get removed until the next morning.
I am a collection of unwritten words, of unsung songs,
And unexpressed feelings.
So here they are.
I may fail.
But I will be whole.

 

The Haunting

I could hear the sound
Of my heart cracking
Echoing
Throughout the silence
Of my bedroom
Throughout the hollowness
That is my body
Without your love to fill it
As you lied next to me
I wanted to beg for help
I wanted to run
Or maybe to stay
Really, I just wanted you
To care
To feel the reality resonate
To hear the sound that haunts me still
Vibrating through the floorboards
Piercing through the blackness
That swarmed between our bodies
And realize that a part of me
Was dying
Right there beside you
In the stillness of the night
If only you had pulled me closer
I needed you
To resuscitate me
To save the part of me
The part of me
That once wished to be saved

 

The Currency of Life

Everything in life cost something
And I’ve become conditioned to ask
“well how much does it cost?”
But what about the things we pay for
With a currency other than a few US dollars

How come we never ask what it will cost
To be a woman
What it will cost
To be unapologetically ourselves
What it would cost
To be anyone else

Excuse me,
I’d like to know the price of pure happiness,
Please.

Maybe we just assume
That if we aren’t using money
It must be free

What is the cost,
Of being so naïve?

 

I’m Exhausted

Dreaming of resting
Without dreaming
Because lately
My dreams
Leave me restless

 

The Explorer

I want to dive into the deepness of her soul. Wash up on the deserted island that is her heart. Never to return again. Lost within her mystical, uncharted territory.