"I'm your muse," his slow smile met my hesitation, exhaling a billow of blue smoke into the space between us. "Yes," I allowed, raking my calloused fingers through his soft, fine hair. "I like it," he kissed me gently as only a shy lover could. Do you? I wondered if he understood what it meant to be such a thing. If he grasped how much of my emotional landscape is painted in a pallet of him, The brown of his hair, the blue of his eyes, passionate reds, bruise purples, and the black of abandonment. It's all fun and games until someone loses their heart.
Safe Harbor | Poems that Suck
You came to me,
pockets overflowing with
tamarind pods,
ripe figs,
celery root
and
prickly pears,
bravely holding me
for thirty seconds
"because that's how
long it takes for the
endorphins to be released."
No one's held me
that long before,
and I could've fell
to pieces in your arms
because you felt so safe.
It Was a Fucking Love Tap! | Poems that Suck
The last straw was when I slapped his ass while he fucked me slow. "You sick fuck," he rumbled in my ear. We laughed in the thick darkness with nothing but each other to cling to.
On Flesh | Poems that Suck
I want to write a poem on your body, scrawl all the words of my love and passion upon your flesh; my mouth the pen. I promise to write slowly, ensure proper punctuation and grammar, and to end with a stroke that brings you bliss.
Octopus| Poems that Suck
I'd joke and call you
my octopus because you'd
engulf me in a flurry of
limbs whenever I came near,
pulling me seductively toward
your mouth.
I was happy to be your
prey, to get lost in the
tangle of your tentacles - another
love blinded fool - I had no idea that
you'd feast on my soft innards, then
spit out
the bones
when you were through.
Call me a Psychic | Poems that Suck
We'll chance upon each other, some day or evening a long time from now. By then my heart will have scabbed over, but still the edges are tender. You'll be excited - "it's been so long!" - but I'll be full of dread, caution. I'll regard you coolly, just enough detachment to make you unsure, ill at ease. I'll make some cutting remark, veiled in subtlety, then excuse myself from your company. You'll mull the comment over, repeating it in your mind, puzzling together its meaning. And slowly, you'll reach the soul of it and know that I'm still bleeding. You'll watch me from across the room, and I'll know by its focused heat, But I'm too old and too tired to play the games of young girls. You won't see me feigning laughter or pretending to flirt with some random person. I'll simply be me, as even keeled and placid as you knew I was. It will remind you of those quiet moments we shared, tangled in each other, Doing nothing but marveling at the miracle of love, the wonder of eachother's breathing. You'll then be in touch, and I'll hesitate but answer; no sense of preservation. You'll apologize for it all and I'll give you a halfhearted, watery kinda smile. (Actions, of course, speak louder than words and I'm simply mirroring your past indifference.) You'll realize too late, like they all do, that you made a huge mistake. But it'll make no difference to me because you had broken something inside me That day, way back, when I stared out of the window, watching a squirrel as You stood above me and recited a litany of why you didn't want me. And maybe then you'll long for me the way I did those many months, The wind blowing through the hollow in your chest, whistling past the ragged edges. And then you'll understand, it dissolved that warm October as I sat in silence. You'll know it's too late for me, for you, for us. It's just now that you're catching up.
Empath’s Eye | Poems that Suck
"Look at me," he murmured. So I did, choosing his left eye over the right. Like I knew it would, the pupil dilated, blossoming under my steady gaze. There's never an option, I'm taken hostage by eyes and that's why I never look, see? Now I saw him, stripped bare before me, the scars raw on his flesh. Yet, he never blinked, never broke contact as I penetrated and saw it all. I admired his courage - I could never be that vulnerable - but also his stupidity. After all, he didn't know what kind of woman I might be or what I could do with his scars. Then again... maybe he just wanted to be seen.
Rumi | Poems that Suck
Rumi was really onto something -
writing poems about God, who for
all we know could be a figment of
our imagination, or a madness of spirit.
The point is: when you love something intangible
and invisible, it has no chance of ever breaking your heart.
Timeless | Poems that Suck
It was the jolt of
recognition
that unnerved me when our
eyes met
for the first time.
The Universe held its
breath
and I didn't feel homeless
anymore.
Brittle | Poems that Suck
You were frail in body while I
was delicate in mind, yet we curled
around and underneath each other trying
to provide comfort to one another - because
that's
what
empaths
do.
You held me as I fell to pieces
in your hands, mind ridden and soul
overflowing with trauma, pain and anxiety.
You held on until I stopped crumbling - not
healed,
but
stable,
enough.
Then I held you, in your emaciated
brittleness, all edges and angles, as
you allowed yourself the space to dissolve
in my hands, slipping through my fingers - like
water
down
a
drain.
Somehow we held each other up,
held each other together, just barely.
Maybe that's what two people do for
one another; the simple kindness of - offering
safety,
compassion,
and
companionship
as we try to
weather our way
through the shitstorm.
Poems that Suck 