Hush, I Might Kiss You

She thought the winter would
keep her warm, that the biting

and bitching wind would be but
hushed kisses on her neck,

and the idiosyncratic flakes of
frost would be her shroud.

Her eyes spattered the bleak
panorama with green and gold

reflections of autumn nights on
tempestuous swells and breakers,

becoming the stars hovering above
crookedly bleeding chest organs.

Soft lavender oblivion has kept her
artfully sedated beneath the

steely clouds of Yuletide. Held
underwater, she sees nothing but

nothing, yet her tongue speaks
of the sapphire sun on the horizon.

Language is Louder Than Words

You don’t sing anymore, your eyes said to me,
spattering me with the golds and greens
that you would never make out, just like
the reflections of streetlights on raindrops.

Your mouth whispered to me,
You are so beautiful, and
my heart bled crookedly with the
luminous faces of the stars overhead.

Your chest murmured to me, please,
thrumming the word with every perennial
pulse of your chest organ and I
couldn’t help but kiss you.

You Just Have a Way

It was the way you didn’t understand

passion unless it was

passion fruit vodka, but you know

how to fuck, and it was

enough, enough for you, but

it wasn’t what I needed when

I’d been awake all night, watching

the luminous numbers drip away

because you were beautiful and you

couldn’t love me.

I was the way you showed no

interest in me, even after your

lips found mine on that frosty day in

November, when you had a

girlfriend and I was intoxicated

with the taste of your mint gum.

It was the way your arms were too

long to be proportional to your body and

kept me safe in my dreams, until

you rolled away in the middle

of the night and cringed when

my skin brushed yours.

It was the way you threw

bold-faced words at me in

the middle of the street, trying

to hurt me, but not seeing the

indifference I had borrowed from

sweatshirts and mix CDs now in

uniform boxes along the wall.

And now it’s the way your blatant

I’ll wait for you forever stabs me like

an IV needle being put in by a

pale-faced and clammy intern because

I was never worth the truth from you.

Airplanes

My teeth are cemented together but the breeze slides through them like a man’s fingers through his lover’s hair, begging to know her as only long-distance lovers can. The wind traces a cool finger across my skin, kissing my jumping jugular with lips that are thousands of miles away, creating in me a longing that I hadn’t known existed. Iron-clad vibrations drifting in from four sides only remind me of airplanes, and of all the places I want to go, and then of you. You as you pull me in so tightly that my breath runs and hides, chasing itself down railroad tracks that somehow pass for a spine. You as you laugh with me (such a free sound, like a song I had once known by heart but had quite forgotten until now), our backs to the frozen ground and our faces open to the sky. You: so unlike anything I have encountered in my trek through decades, yet familiar as a childhood memory glimmering behind my consciousness. It has always been the deep blue oceans that held me in place as time lapped at my shores, corroding me into someone else entirely. Who would have thought, or even guessed, that the patterns we create so independently and so full of self-purpose and preservation, were never quite so independent at all?

(YAWN)

The Daily Prompt for today is “What bores you?” so here goes nothing!

Metallic ringing dries the wet
putrid air with its
desperate clanging attempts at
a melody

Black and white letters play
silently across a screen splashed with
faux bold colors and
mouths miming the words they cannot say

A slow drip funnels through cracks
and splashes with the time of a
metronome set to  a sluggish largo

Even fiery blood deafeningly rushes
through arctic blue arteries
in the silence so thick
I can taste it

 

Perhaps this best captured not what bores me, but my actual boredom. Anyway, enjoy!

Do you let anyone see you?

 

Your shadow slides through days
undiscovered
Blending like dirty watercolors with
shadows of past lives and
people
Somewhere in the harsh fluorescence of
your own ridicule 
it leaves you standing in the center of the ocean
breathless
timeless
a l o n e
 
Now you appear at a desperate precipice
A single step
a blink of the eye
one last sigh of relief
The lust is tangible now
 
Remember.
Solid white blankets offer no comfort
in the strange city with its disinfected scent
Anger ricocheted from the walls
Warm concern held you
removing the smell of people with separate lives
and replacing it with aluminum flowers and water
Talk of “someday” dripped from
green apple lips
 
Golden eyes still see you, even now.