I kiss her neck,
turn her cheek
a faint shade of red.
to my emotions;
pours another glass.
Past my glossy blue eyes,
she licks her lips;
tastes alcohol on her tongue.
I’ll sit, enamor her buzzed beauty,
until she needs me later
dazed and confused,
in need of a hand to hold home.
Sway by the shore,
along the shoreline.
Watch the stars with me.
Weather the storm
in the blinded winter night.
Shiver close to me.
Grow among the
new, spring-red roses.
Bloom next to me.
Change your colors
in the crisp early evening.
Fall next to me.
My mind wanders at will
and watercolor sunsets
Holes in her leggings
tangled blonde hair
color-worn finger nails
A torn body,
The way her off-white dress bottom dances
in a windstorm freezes my pass-by.
Both wind and her dress agree to hold hands.
They intertwine at different speeds,
exchange dips on the dance floor,
toss, turn, swirl around to the rhythm,
up until the wind passes on through;
the storm passes, sun peeks out, the next song resumes
her dress dances no more. My day goes back to ordinary.
I dip my finger into a coat of light blue,
color you like an April spring sky;
kiss your cheeks softly, turn them into
a faint shade of pink, the same
shaded color on your lips.
Following the curves of your body
down to the floor, I slowly stroke
a color of red-orange
before we finish, I sit back and stare
at my artwork. I wash my canvas off in water,
watch the running colors puddle beneath you
as I admire your untouched immaculate beauty
in her aged skin,
midst her lips,
branched around her eyes.
Her body an hourglass of beach-like sand
washed along ocean end;
smoothed to the surface by a midnight high tide;
reflected waters’ perfection
in morning sunrise.
Worn on sleeves,
exposed to hurt,
told to never give away.
It never misses rhythm,
sheds a tear,
or finds a reason
to beat no more
Build up an appetite
and crave for me, my words.
Salivate at the mouth,
let your taste buds lust for them.
Slowly pick apart
each metaphor, emotion, piece of
punctuation, and chose your favorite;
put my words on your plate.
Tilt back your head, mix in saliva,
keep them moist, give them flavor,
and swallow them.
Let my letters mix flow down your esophagus,
some won’t go down smooth, edges are sharp.
Once they reach the stomach, bask in their flavor;
appreciate my words from the inside and out.
scattered on the table,
like a puzzle,
broken in hundreds;
spilt across the floor
forgotten and lost
broken in pieces
of fragmented thought
I crave her,
her imperfect past,
and makeup-covered scars.
I crave her stories of being
lonely and afraid,
under cold tear-stained covers.
I crave her bottled-up emotions
and unspoken words,
from her dark red quivering lips.
Come to me flawed
I’ll swallow your pain,
divulge in your being, with you.
And, before you’re mine,
I hope you reciprocate the favor.
I’m like you; I’m flawed, too.
Remember me as I was:
blood, bones, insides, and
splattered dried-up ink,
dripping into a puddle beneath me;
regrets buried skin deep,
my soul creative soul dying to escape.
Written here, on this page,
I speak in a soliloquy.
Share my words,
keep them under covers, or shout them aloud.
Promise me, you’ll hold these words near,
in the darkest of nights.
Sleep with them,
speak back in whispers,
ignore them altogether
or curse them in response.
Read or tossed aside, my spoken thoughts
are shared, exposed to the world,
never kept in (my) mind.
I write better in ink,
words are dangerous.
Some words burn deep, others
speak of love in whimsical ways.
Air pushed through lips, softly,
can speak the harshest of curses
or the most beautiful of melodies
in rhyming lyric
and coherent thought.
As for me, I’ll drench my emotions into letters,
press my lips firmly against yours, and
refrain from dangerous, spoken words.
White her dress,
black her mind,
open her chest,
red her hands.
Running black mascara
a once alluring-like face.
Her dress swirls behind her; her heart is ripped.
Blood trails and footprints follow.
Gone, damaged, free.