I love him most

 when he whispers my name
like I am his queen
north of the wall and
south of the sea and
all of the places we
dream of in between.


Tagged by @areadingwriter for #sundaysongsharing. I wrote about the song Intertwined by Dodie Clark

Burrowed deep underneath
the layers of blankets,
to the right of my pillow,
your hand grasps mine.
Fingertips and palms,
yours in mine, like an almost
fading memory coming alive,
tracing and clutching,
and always entwined,
looking at each other
with stars in our eyes
and regrets in our smiles.


I sometimes forget that you are real.
A l m o s t. And then you kiss me with
a kiss that no false science could ever
synthesize, and we write every proof
of our existence all around the house
to prove that we are, as a matter of fact,
real. Fact means grounded, proven,
accepted. Fact means atoms and
organisms, and us doing our best
to be a balanced equation.
Fact means I believe in us.
 *As requested by @bob.graphx for #bemymuse no. 33

Storm warning

The monsoons are notoriously
common this time of year. They
remind me of you, how you are so
full of lightning and I am flood
in your palms. Our forecast says
storm warning, but with you around,
it should really say heat wave.

You fall asleep on me at 3am,
oblivious to my fingers trailing
through your hair, aptly pulling
knots from their tender homes.
You have twisted yourself around me,
entangled in fingers, in words,
in limbs, in sheets. We don’t have
the greatest luck on our side,
but baby I am staying.
I will keep loving you like this.
Wear my words, like a vow
like a promise on your skin,
I will keep loving you like this.


I know loving you will leave scars
the shape of your mouth on my chest.
I know loving you is like an order
saying “do-not-resuscitate.” I know
the future leads to nothing but the end.
An end like every fucking book I’ve
read got it’s last page ripped out
and somehow they all end up in
your chest. That is how loving you
feels like, the long and short of
it, drowning in both happily ever
after and the bitter end.

*As requested by @ofsatinandgoldandallthingsbold for #bemymuse no. 31


When I was a little girl, my grandmother taught me
to listen to oncoming traffic and to stay away from things
that could cut my heart in half. Growing up, I knew that I was
destined to be with a guy who would teach me to run on the
rails, who would make me fall as fast as a cannonball and
put all my fears to rest.

*As requested by @theoneandonlycheryl for #bemymuse no. 29