A Triptych: The Final | Poems that Suck

Lean back,”

              he urged me,

                   cradling me

                      like a child

                          in the deep,

                               green, sea. 

I obliged,

   pushing my

       hips heavenward,

                and letting my

                      head sink into

                              the abyss. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,”

            and for a moment, 

                    I felt weightless

                         believing in my 

                                  own beauty 

                                        for the 

                                              first

                                                 time.

A Triptych: Part II | Poems that Suck

 Curvy," he said
            as he ran his thumbnail 
                  along the contour of
                                   my hip.
 "I am," I said
           defensively, maybe
                even a little too
                         loudly.
 "It's lovely.
          Lovely," 
                  he sighed.
 

Triptych Part I (The First Kiss) | Poems that Suck

We lie on the rocky
              seashore,
the night sky spread
wide like an eager
              lover. 


We were talking but I
             was distracted,
our fingers were nearly
touching and I was
             electrified.


Then you slid out of
              your clothes;
I was determined not to
look at the narrow beauty
                      of you.


But I was compelled to
                  join you
in the water; a cool 
kiss on my skin in the
                   thick humidity.


You slipped beneath the still,
                      dark surface
seizing my wrist gently
to take me further out
                  to sea.
                                          (and, God, I was willing)


Then you reappeared, you hair
                     plastered to
your face, and for a wild
moment I wondered if that's what
                      Jesus looked like.


And as I tried to figure
                  this out,
I became aware that you
were slowly coming closer, 
                   and closer. 


We watched each other like
                      two battle
weary cats, projecting our
intentions so there could be
                         no mistake. 


Then you were hovering
                   above me, 
and I swallowed with difficulty,
licking my lips to prepare for
                       the inevitable. 


It began gently, as if testing
                       the waters
but, fire began roiling 
through my veins and I just...
                      let go. 


It was as if the sky
                 caught fire
and I could still see the fierce
blaze through my tightly shut 
                        eye lids. 

Puzzle Pieces | Poems that Suck

"We fit together... like puzzle pieces!"
  and so we did; I a piece of brooding sky
    and you the sunlit meadow, meeting at the
      kiss of the horizon. 

Somehow we fit - no matter if we
 were standing, laying, dancing, 
  fucking, kissing... we just 
   fit together. It just worked
     out that way.

Once complete, however, a puzzle
 is broken apart and stored away...

Now I'm lost, searching for
 the ground that meets my sky, 
  connecting me to the larger picture
   in a sea of misaligned and ill fitting
     pieces. 

Devour(ed) | Poems that Suck

I wanted to paint
 a picture of your
   eyes,
     see. 

One that captured
 all the deep blue
  and the light blue
   fibers of your
     iris. 

I wanted to
 paint your pupil
  huge,
   you know, 
    like a quarter, 
     or a moon, 
       or a god-damn Buick. 

Swollen, like when
 you would whisper
  you loved me and I
   thought I could tell
    you weren't lying. 

Engorged, so large
 I could see myself
  in them and I was a 
   different
     person, 
      content with the mundane. 

Those pupils would
 swallow me, 
  devour me
   whole; 
    flesh, 
      bones.
       Everything.

And then you blinked.

Home | Poems that Suck

He smelled like home to a girl
 who never felt that way about anywhere.

The deep green of the forest;
 sunlit leaves,
  crushed pine needles,
   and damp, rotting logs. 

The warm, fresh earth after it rains;
  buried seeds, 
   their tender shoots, 
    and mossy crevices between stones.

And the slight spice of musk;
 a loamy buck,
  the creeping fox
   and the parched air of owl's wings.

Sizzle | Poems that Suck

You were a dazzling neon light
 in a seedy dive bar and, like a 
  moth, I was compelled by your fire. 

But just like every bewildered moth,
 I was consumed by the searing blaze in
  what was a sizzle of bad decisions.