I know that age matters not
right now, but then it did.
It mattered when we raced against
the wind. I was just a babe in your arms.
You were a man even as a teenager.
You had this way of bringing me love
on a tray, and spoiling me until
I was full on your love. I had it
all, for a brief time. I showed you
my cuts and bruises
and you kissed them. Your lips
on my shoulders within seconds.
My hands unbuckling your belt
in such a frantic youthful way
in an ageless time
between this world and the next.
Let’s remember where we were
and lament the age of us.
It matters that you see past
the girl. We felt invincible
and will never know that freedom
again, that youthful love we held
onto so naurally.
I don’t fall into categories
I prefer to create them
make them shine on my skin
so only lovers with no thoughts
can see them. Leave chat groups
that are toxic for the soul and
create an affair with words
you adore. I discussed poetry
and words and how I have always
been writing, only now it has
controlled me, I can’t contain
it in a beer barrel anymore and
put a lock on it for happy hour.
I can’t shut it off and go to sleep.
I wake up with it and walk around
with these words on the tip
of my fingers and my tongue.
Here they are discussing the
way we move in and out of bed,
the way we talk, with respect
and patience. The way you ask
questions and wait for a reply.
No one ever cared for the same
reasons. Discussions of the soul
with no words are the ones
I cherish. The way we communicate
that first brought us together
and will eventually tear us apart.
I can see the story, I can write
it, I can direct it, I can begin
and end it. I know how to
do it all
for I am a dreamer
and so are you.
I wrote the five letters of your name
in cursive writing with my fingertips.
I wrote the rest of the poem
in my head. It never comes to me
in the moment. It comes after
in riptides and synonymous with
coffee drinks. It arrives at my front
gate and whispers how you made
me feel cherished and adored.
I wrote in my head, on your back,
I love you, for showing me
your eyes, your thoughts, your touch
for having me
in your life. It is not even the
hours that matter, but what you
do with the ones that do, with the
silence and the words. Nothing
is something. When you ask me
what am I thinking? I am thinking
about how I do not want time
to cheat me, but it seems to
never stop banging with truth.
I felt your closeness
And even laying together under
the sheets with no sun
brought the heat of Venus
into our hearts.
I met you at a time when I felt lost
and all the physical pain
collided with my emotional state.
You were the last person in the room
to approach me, and the first to notice.
I told you a story about how lovers
were stuck between all the worlds
they created and you rolled your eyes at
me. Oh, God, you said, another poet.
I’ve never met another one, I said.
Don’t fall in love with him I told myself.
Although I knew I would be the first
to fall for your dark eyes before you
even noticed mine. They were
as dark as my thoughts. You’ll
break my heart and I’ll lose count
of all the ways you want to love me
and other stupid thoughts kept
pestering my brain. shutthefuckup my brain.
I just want to get over someone
so badly, you said.
Me too, I said because it didn’t sound
so pathetic as (well step right up handsome
I’m the one). It’s funny how my mind
says one thing and my mouth another
or my mind thinks one thing and I type another.
No one really knows me then.
They just think they do.
I went to the bathroom and you were gone.
I thought that was just perfect.
A perfect ending to an awful night.
I had concocted all these ideals
that you were the one
and other such bullshit
but in the end
you were another character in my poem
I never knew.
I scared you with my witch eyes for sure
and other such nonsensical thoughts
raged my brain
of why men leave me.
I was thinking about
you are too loud
in my silence,
You’re a cross
between a rock star
and a supermodel
as if spring is in the air
when winter has a few songs
left to play.
I will admit
I do not fall into cliques
because I make my own
and burn them after.
I pull back for my own sanity.
Understand you are so wild
that no one
can hold you down for long.
Lordy, you are raw talent
of a drink and a coffee
of a poem
you read a thousand times
a song you can never
stop listening to
and the car crash
you relive over and over.
I make up words
and some people call me a savant.
Shut off the world news
and caress my disturbance
it cannot bear concealment.
I recited this to my husband
and he nods his head
because he was watching me write it down
shook his head
you are so fucking gifted.
I am envious.
Don’t be, I said. I’d rather sit and watch
the news and not listen to