to the man at my door

If you only knew
I write every poem about you
About us.
Like your black skin
Tumbling onto my brown.

Don’t you notice how I swallow you up with my eyes
And how I love how your upper lip feels
In between my teeth
Or the strength
Trapped in between your clenched fist
Or beneath your silent gaze.

I’ve collected every inch of you.
Trapped them in a box which is my mind.
I refuse to share.
I am a box
Folding up inside of myself
Despite of myself.
I feel so small in your arms.

You are king.
I will be queen.
You just don’t it yet.
I don’t think you’ll know it.

Yet.

I am so afraid of sharing secrets.
Please keep mine forever.
Please keep me forever.

Tonight.
Always.
Come inside.
Stay here.

what i write on post-it notes

Love is daggers dangling off the roof of your mouth.
My heart is barren and bloody.

I folded up my soul last night,
stuffed it into an envelope mailed it to you.
Scorn is best served cold.
I’ll send my hate express mail.

Remember when my eyes smiled?
I do.
I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t afraid of the words of a beautiful man.
Someone reclaim my joy.

hello, again.

I wake up with these feelings, crushing me
You are atop my eye lashes,
inside my skull,
at the foot of my bed.

Something like love, no less than madness.
I knew you would find me eventually.
Again.

Drag your teeth down the pole of my spine.
My body is wrapped in bricks, I am heavy.
How did you find me?
I’ve spent so long hiding from you.
My efforts were useless.

You are unraveling at my feet, crawling out of the pit of my stomach, shooting out of my pores.
The armor was not enough.
I am unprotected.

water

ice melting onto concrete
tears scouring for fingers
to wipe them away if they’d ever come
i don’t smile all the time
but i never cry

river searching for ocean
stars exploding in silence
when i die no one will hear my last breath
echoing in the cave of rotting corpses which is my body
all i have is dead loves festering within me

beauty is subjective
and so is love

i wonder if i’ll be remembered
like i remembered all of you

ice melting onto concrete
water searching for soil to be reborn again
that is all i am
a dead flower wedged in between graves

a love letter that will never be sent

I felt you in the center of my light. You were neurons at the tip of my tongue, electricity crawling beneath epidermis. I felt you everyday. I still do. Lightning you are jolting through rubble, filth, all we’ve amounted to. You’re the dust of rain clouds that rebuilds my soil. Stardust. When I’m ravaged, dying in the arms of loveless men I think of who you once were.

laughter in old levis

I left my morals tucked in between the pages of the bible my grandmother gave to me this morning. I do that every day actually, I can’t help it. I don’t do it purposely, it just sort of happens. Every day before I get dressed I count the sweat stains on my t-shirt from the drops of sweat swollen with lust that edged down my back while he handled me. Then I count all the holes he punched into my heart too and try to figure out why he stuffs them with lies as if that’s suffice.

He hides around the corner from my bedroom every time he leaves to see if I’ll come out after him, I do, always. I am attached, I am stuck, I am pieces glued together in the shape of a woman, that is all I have ever been.

“Hold me… Tell me sweet things…” I say, caressing his beautiful, dark, brown face.

“Dude” he says. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know the difference between fantasy and reality? That’s what a boyfriend would do, and I am not your boyfriend.”

His facial expressions are pained; he is annoyed, confused, and mostly burdened. He wants to leave; I tend to give him sufficient reasons to want to. I want to be honest and tell him, yes, I live in a fantasy world, always, but I don’t, I just laugh. All I can do is laugh at myself. I am a joke, that is all I have ever been.

thirsty fingers

i figure my body is a pyramid of vowels
searching for a voice
or a pen
or a tablet
or a microphone
or a stage
or a man
to project it's pain onto

i climb atop the laps of men
press my lips against thick skin
trying to capture resilience on the cusps of their lips
i want to be hardened
but i am just soft
putty melting onto concrete
burning beneath sun

i want to write tragedies onto his tongue
stuff my internal conflicts down his throat
rid myself of myself
just remember me when i am gone
that is all i demand

tuck my ashes in between the pages of my dairies
burn them in a pit
send him the remains

i don't want to be forgotten

all i have is syllables
and words
and feelings
and notebooks
and incomplete thoughts
and a bloody heart
and tired fingers
and a thirsty soul

can i curl up and live inside of you forever?
that is the only place i've ever felt safe

if you'd like to find me you can look in the cracks of his skin
on his bottom lip
buried beneath silent thoughts and saliva
wedged in between his brain and skull
leaking out of his nose
bloody