markings
you have a habit of marking
your territory, in other words: me
and you always make a point
about whom I belong to
staking your claim every time
as if there was bullion gold
to be found in my veins
you’re so very territorial, dear
relentlessly vigilant vigilante of emotion
making a show of your passion
painting your desire for the world to see
with bright red lipstick on my collar
The companion piece by Sand Dollar can be found HERE.
I want to love you
I want to love you
As if it was my first time
Arms open wide and willing
To see all the stars anew
I want to love you
Fearlessly and flawed
Like before we ever built that wall
Like we have nothing to lose
I want to love you
With all of who I want to be
Selflessly giving you all of me
Sharing life in close proximities
I want to love you
As if it was my first time
As if it would be me last
Just how you want to love me too
Splinter
When you first got under my skin, I noticed
because it hurt a little bit.
I was working hard - too busy.
So, I couldn’t stop to remove you.
You started to hurt more each moment,
but you were too deep
I couldn’t cut you out
I didn’t want to bleed.
You infected me.
I thought you would work your way out
the way most splinters do,
but not you.
You stayed in.
Now you’re a part of me.
I can see you under the surface
when I reach for my pen.
You remind me of that first time
that time you got under my skin
and it’s comforting.
re-paired
remember when we used to slouch
through evenings on our old couch
looking far out to the stars in space
beyond the embers of the fireplace
when I would play and you would sing
our souls connected by the strings
and we got too busy, and it showed
as affection dwindled, the guitar broke
it’s overhauled now, can you see
so hang your hat and sing with me
let’s look out to the stars again
just like we used to, back then
the fall
fast and hard
long and slow
soft and painful
how can one thing seem like that
nonsense
you write about it
and it is truly nonsense
and the single most sensitive thing
it senses your weakness
gives you strength
hears your headiness
makes you gelatinous
weaker than you’ve ever felt
and you hunger and thirst for it
though it rots your guts
with a sugary sap that ferments
goes straight to your head
there is no cure for you
you have fallen
A thorn in the side
he has cuts and slashes across most of his body
he looks like he has wrestled a rose bush in the nude
some of his cuts are fresh and some of his grazes are old
he doesn’t know why he does it,
he only knows it is what he needs
when scabs start to form, over old wounds
he creates fresher ones
she is the scabs that he picks at,
the irregular scars
he maps into reminders over his body –
he won’t ever let her fade
Together
Where do I find the pieces
of your heart?
The ones that loneliness
had scattered across time.
Would they fit snug against each other like before?
Or would they be shriveled
and gapped?
I could only attempt in filling them
I would be ever so gentle and meticulous
I’d be devoted
like a painter
who is never finished with their work.
I would give you all of me, freely
And show you real love
And perhaps in time
You could find the pieces of mine!
They were buried like treasure
Map-less, but hopefully not lost forever
We could simultaneously go about searching for those pieces of our hearts
We could both mend them
Together…
