I want my man like I want
my books: warm to touch,
smooth on the inside but
rough along the edges,
leather-bound with a hard
back, filled with sordid
stories to tell.
You will learn that the most important conversations
are the ones you have with yourself.
“What’s the difference between loving someone and being in love with them?”
Continue reading “The difference”
I want you tossed and turned,
and tussled in my bed. I want you
lost in the messy chaos of the sheets,
buried in your own breath, clawing
your way out with my name on your Continue reading “Tossed and turned”
Maybe the wind
has withered your shape,
maybe the sun has dried
up all your leaves, maybe Continue reading “Nest”
I’ve met too many men
who loved my surface but
feared my depth. I’m a crazy,
chaotic maelstrom of laughter
& warmth, happiness & nostalgia. Continue reading “Entwine”
Call it what you will, but entangled particles exist.
Continue reading “Soulmates”
Poets are fools
who have mastered the
art of arranging and
rearranging the same
twenty six letters
to spell love.
Continue reading “Spell love”
Make coffee, so that the whole place smells like hazelnut. Put on some Marvin Gaye, turned down low. Slide back under the sheets with me.
Continue reading “The perfect way to wake me:”
I don’t want you to go, I used to say,
when it was still another way to say I love you.
Continue reading “Curling”
You tell me you love me, but you
can never choose me. We were a
juxtaposition from the start. Continue reading “Juxtaposition”