Please forgive me
when I see you again
if I treat you like a stranger
my heart is so used to missing you
that touching you this close again
just feels so surreal,
it almost feels criminal .
Believe me when I say I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep. Every time I think of telling you I want you for your bad days and your good, I flinch back into myself, saying nothing. I am so afraid of finding out I’m not strong enough to hold the both of us.
But trust me when I say I love you.
And that means I will try anyway.
I’ve met too many men who loved
my surface but feared my depth.
I’m a crazy, chaotic maelstrom of
laughter and warmth, happiness and
nostalgia. I’m a hurricane of feelings
and words, twisted and entwined in
one sweep of existence. I’ve accepted
my soul’s truth and complexity
and I won’t apologize for it.
It didnt matter that the sky above us was exploding into a myriad of colors. I could not hear anything but his laugh, I could not see anything but his smile. The beautiful lights were nothing like the twinkle in his eyes. Everything was magical and mesmerizing, and like us, over too soon.
There is something about our sweet destruction
that is so irresistible to the senses. Day by day,
I am becoming accustomed to the crashing,
the breaking, the wild, spinning-madly-out-of-control
bliss as our language. I look forward to waking up
with you coffee ground into my spine, as my body
melts in your hands like heroin on spoon,
attempting to spell addiction in my pulse.
I don’t remember you tasting like anything
other than last night’s alcohol, yesterday’s
could be’s, and this morning’s regrets.
I remember you like my wine glass,
more than half full of air and broken
promises. Although my body still
aches of places you called home,
this only happened because it was
too dark for me to tell the difference
between concrete and collarbone.
What we had wasn’t love,
maybe it was loneliness,
maybe it was lust,
maybe it was simply
wanting to feel again.
Yet somewhere along the way,
we made the silent decision to
call it love because neither
of us really knew what we were.
Giving monsters pretty names
doesn’t change anything.
I am more lioness than girl.
I am more snarl than smile.
I am not the silent type purring
sighs into your chest. The way
that I will scream your name
is more roar than moan, as my
nails claw the flesh of your
backbone. I am the insatiable
beast of the night and morn.
Save for the moments between
sunset and darkness, when your
fingertips find the curve of my
waist, and you pull my raging
form tight against our heaving
breaths and heartstrings.