Mystery night

Head pounding after drink
binging
creating beautiful worlds
to let in the innocent
and their dreams.
Midnight driving from
the west of the island
to the east
from north to south
listen to GNR to remind
myself of how
the Big O almost burnt
and I was chasing shots
that night
watching from above
always being your angel
saving you from dying.
I see how you adore me
when you look at me
if it wasn’t for me
you’d still be searching,
you stopped when you
found me
and want every piece
you can’t have.
It’s funny how
I see the highway lights
glaring the truth
the voices
creating the poems
under the tunnel.
Skipping conversations
because the poem is
in my blood now
don’t care about yellow
lights, speed limits
all I feel are the words
thirsty
for their paper
to land, to penetrate,
to feel alive
as bodies would
could
and needs take over
this mellow night
of headache
sexy legs you wrap
around yours
like an early Christmas
present.
Do we need a list?
A list of what not to do
to lose a lover.
I will be under my blanket
the rest I leave to
your imagination.
All of it
for it is
and will always be
a mystery.

Hideaway

It does not matter what
I say to you
when you bring
down the pain
and hug it
like a newborn
needing to relive
every spiteful word
she said
by
taking down
picture frames
to create new ones.
It does not matter
how I see it
because my green eyes
ignite you.
I feel your
sadness now
when you ache
empathy
encompasses me
that’s how I’m made
with loyalty and heartache
with knowledge
and truth.
I can see through
screens
cracked mirrors
I can write in your mind
trace your body’s shape
on top of mine.
I let you in now
it’s too late
to change fate
anyhow.
I can feel the walls
caving in
and I
can let you be
but, mon amour,
know that
no matter the state
you’re in
I can handle
you.

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To Be Continued

Self-doubt
is my slow killer.
Fancy that running
into you at the grocery
store would make me
want you harder.
Babies cry and
daddies chase me
down aisles.
Sometimes I wonder
about all these strangers
loving me. They can
treat me better
or worse? Married
or single? But then
you leave me all these
trails to your soul
all these tracks to
your mind
and I blush
in front of the
pasta section.
I change every morning
into some girl
in the morning
who had a father once
and now visits
cold snowy
cemeteries for fun.
Death is not comforting
for me,
He was.

I want your arms
to wrap me up
like a warm blanket
I had as a child.
I will not take away
my gaze
from yours.
It is too early
in the morning to compete.
This is what keeps
me going today
and you
are always
to be continued.

Muse me

Uploading photos to freeze time

sitting on Santa’s lap

to release laughs

singing songs to remember

the way it was. The time

we all spent Christmas together

in one home. When he woke

me with pancakes and smiles

and all the traditions really did

matter. Now I stare at

the ceiling while I should be

sleeping

instead of dreaming

about you and your made

up fantasies. I can be just

as creative while staring hard

at darkness. True artists

need the night more than

the day. I know I do.

Thinking is best done

while pumping heart and soul

into a poem. Guts and all.

Fright and the fall. Duck

and be gone.

Stoned at a party

drinking green cognac

how we hold onto

our youth while clutching

plastic cups in suburbanite

dynamite. I listen to the silence

and wait in the darkness.

How did you write a book?

How do you answer a question

with a question. That’s been

my biggest problem. Never want

to answer with truths so made

up stories of chapter sessions in

late night bars. I chase it hard.

I live hard. Surrounded by the love

that limits me, that wrecks me,

that adores me, that complicates me,

digging deep withing the bottles

to find the recipe

to nothing at all

but existentialism.

Open up The Little Prince

and see once again

the importance of Living.

Everything else I can watch burn

in a fire. Except You.

Words of Love

Hanging up the words on a clothesline

to dry up the sadness. The tears wet

my bra and panties and now look

at me. Wrong kind of wet. Right

kind of wrong. Such a deep

mess on the outline of the sea.

Wrapped around the belts

around my waist, in your hands

around my thoughts in the

wandering streets. Love wakes

me up with kisses on my cheeks,

it startles me out of my reverie

while I pump gas. Left the locket

on my dresser, left my mind

on your doorstep. Walk with me

the day is long, the nights are

windy, the pain excruciating.

Make the scene sexy with

all the words left out,

all the fantasies played out. It

is only a dream within a dream

the theater of the absurd

and we are sitting in the last row

playing footsies underneath

the imaginary mistletoe. Grab

your coat, your pen, your

drink that is not for

the faint of heart. I can

down a bottle of Jack honey

so trust me, believe in me,

as the news travels fast

among the wanted. The point

is that there really is none.

My coffee is cold, and

still I drink it. My needs

are vast and still I chance it.

Love switches on and off

from hate to love from love

to hate from me to you

and from you to me.

Must dry the words

and let them settle.

A well

(I wish I had more time to tell you how I love full sentences. I wish you could hear me when I sleep, but you’re out cold. I wish you understood me better, but as complicated as I seem, this is how the opposite is true).

I wish I didn’t see all the

grammar errors

I wish I could over-

look my inner child

and ignore the brilliant

colors of the sky.

I wish I didn’t have

this sixth sense

that tells me to run

or this rebel child

that wants me by her side.

I wish you were

in my paradise

when I was alone.

I wish that your voice

didn’t affect me

or your hands didn’t

grasp my waist

so firmly.

I wish your eyes wouldn’t wander

but my wishes

are all at the bottom

of the well

with rusty coins

and lost hope.

I cannot stop

the sadness

from ringing my bell

and letting herself in;

she has a way

of clearing out the alcohol cabinet.

I wish I could sail

on your boat,

but, just as the moon

has phases

so does love,

so do I

as so do you. 

you think

you may think you’re all cool

and chic with your light curls

and words of pearls

but so many poets

come and go from here

with empty carts and fear

loaded in their back seat

as they head for New York

and follow the endless beat.

you may think you have it all planned out

in your lined books instant rhymes

but did you realize you’d bump into

so many poets and musicians that would

unfurl the desires of your youth

with one guitar riff

and still you write those awful poems

that I can’t read

you go on Facebook and have thousands

that follow the Christian way

the right path

so you think you’re someone

with more than just a shady past.

you think you should follow

more artists

as you pretend to be one.

I see through you

and run the other way

from girls like you

who turn into women

with fangs

and midnight pangs

to have all the men

under your wing

for all the wrong reasons.

you keep on thinking

you’re above

while the Virgo in me

walks on the ground.

Charades

I’m pretty good at charades

beat them all with my gestures

I’m Greek so I move my hands

when I talk

break open beer bottles

with my hand

I may seem all sweet and nice

but I could hurt you

mostly with objects

you can never see

hardly noticeable

from this distance

but naked in my bed

you could twist me around

in seconds

and see that my tears

are on the pillowcase.

I can pick the charade words

select the perfect movies

actors

sayings

and let the games begin

make a Cosmo that makes you

want more

select a playlist

for somber moods

haunting moods

slide an adjective over my body parts

and I’ll come up with something.

I hate parts of you

I detest the fatal flaws

that will come between us

like a scaffold.

I think in ancient times

and read scripts

in my mind that you dreamt about

so long ago.

I see through you

past you

and still

I want to see all the parts

you hide.

More talk

All this naked thought
rock n roll riffs
in naked thoughts
spring forth like buds
aromatic sea salt bubble suds
on our bodies
as we ease into each other’s
complicated world
make it real
let the songs unfurl
emotions we feel
how people like us
have fortresses around our soul
with rust
your oil can resurrect
with each thrust.

Monday morning
Only by the Night
from beginning to end
foreplay of sexy voices
wet before you
smoky eyes
at red lights
closer & crawl
sex on fire
notion
all make it intense
to be speechless
in the shower
of sexual scenes
in the porno
of sexual minds
in the fascination
my obsessions
with past lives and soul
mates
enough crap to feed me
poetry for months
make me weak
you work so well
so tight
so magical
you’ve seen me before
don’t lie to yourself
I’m like the rest to you
and when you
have me in your arms
you hope
your
innermost fear about me
will be like the moon.

In the end
I am just
a
girl
no matter how you
write it
spell it
or
growl it
as you are
just a boy
no matter
how many times
you try to fight it.

Pour toi

How many soul mates can there be/can we see through walls/ break our falls/ carry on and break the chain/mend the love or let it rain/numb ourselves with music and words/ ignore the sign of the birds/ wear sexy dresses/and get in these loose messes/
Listen to the wind/ the ink flows like a river/ never freezing in the winter/ binding time & sex is always on my mind/
With you/ with me/ in us
Making such a crazy scene/
Lost in the inbetweendays/
And constant sunshine rays/

So I step back/ lose my track/and dive in the river with my clothes on
Catch me head on/ you have strong arms/wicked charms
Only a kiss can stop me now/ you know exactly how.