Walking down solemn streets at night, dusk stretching across the indigo sky, I look up to see the shimmer of stars.
Stars so bright, so foreign, from where I grew up. They glow in the night, mesmerizing, asking me to ponder on when I saw them, but never quite like this.
It is here, strolling slowly, I think of you. The warmth of our hands embracing as we talk softly of things shared and whispered among others’ ears.
Here they are new again, unfolding, gleaming the mystery of you.
Only the richness of thoughts sustain this moment, but it is no matter; my chest swells regardless, my body warms from memories, and my smile makes the stars envious in the night.
I walk on for miles, welcoming this moment, enjoying the refreshingly warm evening, and creatively detouring on to new streets.
This, an obvious attempt at prolonging my eventual arrival home.
Even once I arrive, the thoughts of you follow, and I want to be in your arms…
curled, nestled, warm
kissing you, held by you
waiting for the next time I see you.
Let me make love to your body.
Let me taste your words.
Each syllable broken into emotive texture.
Let me soak you up as you drip with consonants oozing from your tongue.
Let me make love to your body.
Speaking in a fragrance of languages to the very tip of your skin,
so close, whispering of things, making your body rock.
Let me help you loss so much control.
Let me make love to your body.
Let me soak up the cascade of musicality,
the sharpness of minor keys,
the dissonance of major keys in reflection,
you opening into a chorus, explosive from your lips.
Let me make love to your body.
Sway me in the rhythm of your hips
following the lines and curve, unending.
Let me rise into your falls of familiarity that ripples across your skin.
Let me make love to you body.
My body overflown with tension and aching against yours.
Let us enmesh.
Let my hands pull from you all you've been holding in.
Let the familiar feeling grow, crest open your eyes, let it cascade in convulsive waves rushing across your body.
Rest in my arms.
Sitting across from you
i let my fingers go idle
as you speak on the wonders,
tragedies, and beauties of your world.
I find myself slipping into a myriad of thoughts where time is elusive.
Resting in a place
where all that has been held
lays open, unable to fold,
I bet, I raise.
I wonder if it is real.
Your sweet voice pulls me from that hidden place as my heart calms.
I know…
I know that when I look at you the words cascade to the tip of my tongue, echoing, my lungs stretched out. There is a longing to spill it over into your heart.
All that wondering,
I already know it is real.
There are feelings that come
surprising me
like consistant currents
as they turn bend after bend
as if there were no curves
only a dead giveaway forward
I see it when I look into your eyes
they shimmer
compelling me
in a moment
as all words push to the river’s edge
and the pebbles of truth swell resolutely higher
I am instantly overcome
something in them feels like truth
and the tide swells secret words known and unknown
How they shimmer
with something that simply is there
When I look into your eyes
Late night strolls down vacant hallways devoid of any ambiance beyond the rush of giggled language and a warmth that emanates only from us in this space.
Your back arched like the sweet swell of the first bridge ever built over the chaotic, effervescent, flow of water. An impossibility realized.
Fingers, idly connecting, interwoven in a shy reserve of newness as eyes twinkle with galaxies of moments whispering of stars breaking open.
A cascade of words tumbling unturned, unreserved, yet to be polished by thoughts as they surrender into a release uncontrolled by the spectrum time or latitude or perceptible meaning.
What are these moments, so swelled in an interlocking tension, that move on tidal waves with apprehension and enticement?
What leads me to dream of you during the day?
Breath, hard to breathe. Glazed eyes.
Legs sore from the memory of you.
Walking in a dream-like state.
Exhalation and secret hallelujahs.
I close my eyes, trust falls.
Walking in two worlds at once
down blurred hallways, sloppy, drunk off you.
You are a siren.
Emily Dickinson has nothing on you.
Date 1
On first look
A tiny bolt with the mission to restart my heart
shook through me as swells temporarily resolved me to silence.
I pretended it was simply a moment
Date 2
My rousing curiosity
Observing our rivers flowing side by side
sometimes lapping at one another’s like the unceasing waves of water kissing the shore.
The current surged as electricity sparked when reaching the water's edge.
I pretended It was simply an instant
Date 3
A heart unbound
My bodies voice of new terrain overtook my reserves with wishes of sweet pleasantries
only known between two streams touching at mouth of the river
Kiss me
Don’t be nervous, she says.
How can you not see that the wind hasn’t blown across these leaves in years?
Take a deep breath. Breath out. Let it make ripples on me in the sun and in the shade.
Shaking me, making me remember that the forest wasn’t always so still…
My heart broke, shattered like glass,
reflective of what we always knew.
The lie, not born in nature,
but sprung up over ashes, and years,
and fragmented bones.
The story of us, posturing these last few years; blown.
The pieces lay sanctimoniously everywhere.
A silent prayer from my lips, cast like a fisherman’s net, collecting nothing.
Crimson spills from my splintered fingers.
Broken open, raw
from love, contempt,
from the unacquainted, and all too familiar.
In earnest, scrambling to put the glass back together again.
But there is no together. The blast took us both out the picture.
And if you listen closely, you can hear the echo of
Words crest like a shell at my lips,
A violent storm in our now shattered glass menagerie
And I am left standing in the heaps of our rubble.
When the heart breaks you can hear it’s infernal sound waves for miles.
When the heart breaks you’d swear it was you.
You count all the memories on your fingers
Rubbed numb and bald from lighting yourself on fire.
When a flip switches, you hardly recognize that part or yourself.
The skin grows back.
Each breath deeper than the one before.
The amnesia of who you are takes its leave like storms always do.
When the heart breaks you return home.
i’ve known you for years
no need to hide our kisses
our love lead us here
the beauty of art
stretching, growing in new ways
creating anew
you hear all the lies
in darkness you run until
seen, your truth unbound
my family’s path
outside looking in I see
my inner compass
my body, my truth
accepting me as I am
my body, I choose
who am i, i ask
Metaphorphosis is here
beautiful new world
you are bright comet
darkness and light revolving
embrace the unknown
passions decaying
the old foods dead and sour
adventure begins
a passionate storm
tell me now, am I dreaming?
why am I waiting?
To be a woman
Hidden, careful, attentive.
To be black
Hidden, careful, attentive.
To be
Visible