give me your undivided attention
your eyes your mouth your ears, give
your reasons your excuses your pathetic
avenues, twisting yourself out of
all, giving me lie after calculated truth
give me your undivided affection
your fingertips your elbows your blood and
curve, isn’t that what you’ve always
longed for, a way to breathe into someone
else and give them a glimpse of you, give me
a peek of you unadulterated, a part of you you’ve
never wanted, give me the sharp parts you’ve
forgotten and buried shallow, give me your soft edges
them wide open, give me and take
from me, take what I’ve always wanted to build, take
from me the memories I can’t say with certainty
without wondering where we all and it all began
give me your empty and I’ll fill it ever full with
my regrets and my glass body, so easy to crack
I’ll give you my undivided
isn’t that what they’ve
told us, they’ve always
kiss me, skin prickling, lips cracked but now moistened,
lead me to the table and we’ll exhaust ourselves and exhaustingly
exhaust all topics of conversation until we’re bled dry of talk and our
throats are sore from giggling over wine glasses of crimson acid,
taking no extra breaths than needed, devouring each other
with our minds and our thoughts and our eyes until
we leave a tip with the check and escape
into the cool whisper of the winter wind.
my feet are aching in these high heels I wore
just to be near your height – so up I go,
into your warm arms, carrying me
across the street and up stairs
key unlocking the door with a soft
click click, thud behind us.
you cough, your chest heaving
you’re handsome, even when
you’re sick as all hell,
and I love you for
taking me out
I want to taste the poison on your tongue
I want to feel your breath upon my neck
warming me against the bitter cold
that threatens to destroy us limb from limb.
Tell me that the world will never end,
Tell me that forever we will be.
I will stay if the demons come to call
and be with you until my dying eve.
But kisses are not shields
and the world is not a home,
but a radical existence of
bone against bone.
Trifecta challenge week 42: write at least 33 words based on the third definition of the word radical: a : very different from the usual or traditional : extremeb : favoring extreme changes in existing views, habits, conditions, or institutionsc : associated with political views, practices, and policies of extreme changed : advocating extreme measures to retain or restore a political state of affairs <the radical right>
breaking the silence
with your words
You know nothing of suffering.
you shift your weight
turning to me
blessing me with the sight
of your marble eyes.
they glisten like the blood of warriors
but I only imagine them red
because your eyes
are the color of aged leather –
fierce and calculating,
warm and rugged,
you have me shaking to my core
and I’m falling, falling
from grace, into
the splendor that is
You know nothing of suffering.
And I know nothing of you.
this is the moment
before the clock strikes
before the cock crows
before the sun sets.
they say beginnings are born
from endings, but I –
I am born from the ashes
when the pain ebbs
when the blood drips
when the marks fade
I am born
I am new
I am the end
and the beginning
and I slough the ashes off
and I can feel
so very clearly
what life is
who I am
who I must become
the air stank of stale tobacco and petrichor
and the rain kept falling, falling.
and he stood there, naked before us
and he wept his salt and blood
because she would have been twenty-six today
if she hadn’t drank so much
and took her Ambien.
she never woke up.
you could feel her in the air that night
she was with us
in the drinks we poured
in the breaths we took
and in the rain that
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the dark musky theater was hardly the right backdrop
to set the scene for our hormonal-driven ecstasy
as we found ourselves, quite alone, on the couch reeking
of sweat and mildew. and it was there, in the quiet black
of that theater, that old high school theater,
we didn’t talk at all, we only felt
and kissed and were ourselves, plainly.
three years later, here we are again,
that same theater with the backdrops newly painted.
the couch is gone, replaced by other props like
a wooden cow, Rapunzel’s tower, a basket of fake loaves of bread –
things that mean absolutely nothing to us,
since we had left that life behind.
I haven’t talked to you since then.
you’re looking dapper in your suit and tie
and you smile and give me a stiff hug
and gruffly walk away
as if we had never
kissed at all.
it is not because we can lay naked together and just enjoy the heat of the day and the lame movie on the screen. it is not because we have both unwittingly adopted each other’s idiosyncracies so well that it is almost like we were born that way. it is not because we move in sync to our surroundings. it is not because we sing so loud in the car we drown the rest of the world out. it is not because we miss each other’s skin and bones whenever there is distance between us. it is not because we find each other’s jokes hilarious when no one else finds them funny. it is not because we listen so completely to one another that we never forget a single unimportant thing. it is not because we complete each other. it is not because of any of those things. it is because of all of them, and more, every untold and unknown and forgotten and remembered and heartfelt and sickening. it is because you are me and I am you, and love has everything and nothing to do with it. it is fact and fiction, it is real and imaginary, it is and it is not. we are separate but not. we are us. we are love.