Sometimes | Poems that Suck

We were toxic as fuck,

and there are times I wonder

if our connection was more a sickness

of spirit, rather than something cosmic —

But sometimes,

when the moon looks just right,

and the night air is a certain humidity,

I miss you —

The scathe of your fingers nails on my scalp,

sharp enough for me to wince beneath them,

the low rumble of your voice, which always caused

me to lean into your mouth,

the sound of your laugh, which is etched inside my brain,

the curve of your fingers, and the impossible largeness of your hands,

the deep, earthy smell of you that always made me feel like I was at home,

and the feeling of when our heads touched – like it was always us, had always

been us, and would always be us.

Even if it was a sickness,

at least it was shared.

(A)Mused | Poems that Suck

Hold me close and kiss me –

 – then text her from ‘our’ bed.

Call me by the names that only you know –

– as you simp for her half naked photos.

Blow smoke, talking about keys, growing old,  meeting your mama and babies –

-while you plan to take couple photos with her.

‘Make love’ – never fuck – me –

 – while visions of her dance in your head.

Use me when you want to cum –

-then talk to her for hours, lying to me by omission.

Just say the truth –

I’m the Bargain Basement clearance rack version

of what you always wanted, but could never get.

Tell me –

You’re not in love, but

love my attention

and

will keep cumming in me

’til something better

comes along.

Kept | Poems that Suck

“Can I keep you?” I whispered against your lips.

Not whimsy, but a real question.

“Yes,” you murmured into my smile.

Our bodies pressed against each other,

Like two halves trying to make a whole.

“How long?”

How long will you stay?

“As long as you want me.”

And I sunk into that pink, hazy bubble

of bliss that I’m always in when you’re near.

“Ok. I’ll keep you for good.”

I meant forever, but didn’t want to scare you.

.

.

.

.

.

Five heartbeats, before I ask.

“Will you keep me?”

Will you really stay?

Do you really want me?

“Mmhm”

.

.

.

Three heartbeats before..

“How long?”

.

.

Two heartbeats.

As if the answer is obvious.

“Forever,” you said, your cum dripping down my hips.

“Ok, forever,” I agreed, kissing you with eyes wide shut.

Fourteen | Poems that Suck

I wonder what I'd be like
had you not smelled my
daddy issues like, like a
shark scents blood in 
                                         the water.

What kind of life I'd have
if you never whispered
obscenities down the 
phone line into my fourteen
                                                 year old ears.

What I'd think about 
love, and sex had I not
given up my virginity 
in a one night stand 
                                    so you wouldn't
                                    be disappointed.

Or even if I hadn't learned
from you that love, sex, and
the person you're fucking are
of no consequence so long as
                                                         I get mine. 

It's no wonder that I
am terrified by love and
find sex to be hollow, and
have an overwhelming fear 
                                                 of abandonment.

Corpus | Poems that Suck

This is my body. 

36.
33.
36.

Cellulite on the backs of my thighs, 
a highway of broken capillaries,  
mapping the pot holes of cottage cheese.

This is my body.

Tits beginning to sag with age as
the years stretch out longer with
nipples scarred by youthful piercings
when we all believed we were indestructible. 

This is my body.

With a belly that is no longer flat, 
but mushes like soft bread;
an effect of diminishing estrogen. 

This is my body.

Criss-crossed with scars, tattoos
and crows feet which whisper the
secrets that I've forgotten long ago.

This is my body. 

As I stand naked before a mirror
and will myself to love it though
it juxtaposes what mass media dictates.

This is my body.

Mine to love, 
hate, 
exploit, 
destroy, 
sanctify.

This flesh and bone. 
This is home. 
This is where I live.

A Love Poem Told in Hair | Poems that Suck

I want you to find
 my hair in your bed;
  a rainbow of reds, pinks,
   browns, blues, greens, blonde 
     and maybe even a little bit of gray.

I want you to find
 it wrapped around the
  base of your cock when
   you take a shower, and

between your ass cheeks, in
 your mouth when you eat lunch,
  scattered across your favorite 
   clothes and clinging to your cat's tail,

plastered on your shower 
 curtain, and in thin, curling 
  esses around the drain of your bathtub. 

Welcome Home | Poems that Suck

"Welcome home,"
  and by 'home' I 
    meant my pussy as
      you slid deeply inside of me.

'Home' because
  you fit perfectly,
   your cock anchoring me
     to the ground of your being

where our
  spirits mingle with each other
   in the full embodiment of co-creation. 

Camping Trip | Poems that Suck

Camping Trip
I was once convinced
by an ex to go with him
to a music festival.

Three days of speed metal
during the daylight hours and
techno and trance at night.

We spent two days high
on acid, laughing ourselves
silly at random shit.

When we were finally
able to fall asleep, I was
woken up hours later by

the sound of rushing
water and when I opened
my eyes I saw my purse

float by. I turned over
to find him standing at
the mouth of the tent

and pissing into it,
rather than out of it;
understandable, really.

“Friend,” I asked in my
gentlest tone, “is this
prudent? Do you think,

maybe, this is a bad
decision?” He looked
at me, a mixture of

confusion and defiance,
and without hesitation
aimed his dick at me

and pissed between my
eyes. That day I learned
you don’t ask questions

in these situations, and
you can’t argue with
a pissed off pisser.