these three words

in

These three words
are thick
and sweet
and foreign.

I roll them in my mouth,
trying to separate this strange syrup from myself.

They trap my tongue
seize control of my lips
I whisper them,
hoping to release their pressure,
but they never give.

I swallow them before they stain my face with a smile.

My body heaves,
I let this sweetness eat my insides,
too much to keep in
too terrible to let out. 

I’m not ready to say it
I’m not ready to mean it…
                                         and yet?

curtains

in

Your curtains guard us against the approaching day.
Hold me in that warm and tentative silence
while our magic fades with the night.

Let’s wait for clicking coffee cups and
the creaking doors of a rising house. 
If I stifle my laughter,
they won’t know you’re awake.

If anyone comes in,
I’ll be an anonymous back,
a secret hidden in your sheets.

They don’t know I’m here,
they’ll never guess it was me. 

This morning is slipping away
and we’re breaking with it.
Will you think of me?
Even as the empty space in your bed? 

I already know the answer to that,
but will you be kind to me in your goodbye?
Please?

I won’t ask for anything more.

restlessness, recklessness

in

Your restlessness.
My recklessness.
Stormy nights and mountain drives? 

Perfect.

We trade questions about our quirks,
I tease your serial forgetfulness.
Thunder shakes the car,
our laughter is stronger.

A sputtering soon joins us.

Is it the transmission?
Maybe the engine?
It’s a poorly timed joke
halfway up any mountain. 

We can’t stop now.

You chuckle.
One hand tightly clutches the stick shift,
the other grips the wheel.
I sense your worry
as we travel the line
between danger and death. 

Our adventure meets an unexpected end
in a valley filled with temples and dead men.

Please,
don’t apologize while you call your friend
to rescue us from our failed attempt
to combat your loneliness.

Silence,
punctuated by hardened rain,
reveals the source of your dilemma:

A battle between the guilt of joy
and the burden of surviving.

girl of your dreams

in

Between morning-after kisses,
a bare-faced confession:

You’re the girl of my dreams. 

I craved those words. 
They made me
better than the other girls.
I’d do anything to get my fix of it
to keep them from the rest of you. 

Come over before midnight,
leave before mid-morn.
Anything to hear them again,
anything for my fill of you.

I should have known,
those words came with a caveat.
A crushing realization
that sent me crashing to the earth,
before shackling me to the ground. 

When you said those words,
you meant I shouldn’t have any.

mother’s day

in

I woke up with you on Mother’s Day,
all I could think was, “What would mine say?”
Yours?

An ocean away.

I laughed at you in this queen-sized bed,
basking in the glow of our sins,
watching the sunlight trickle in,
tickling your feet dangling over its ledge. 

Your phone rang:
Mom 

“Why didn’t you call, it’s almost noon.”
I watched you shrink from six feet to two,
your feet frozen over the ledge,
her baby boy’s tanned skin burning red. 

This bed is too small for the two of us.
This room is too cramped with the three of us.
She knows why you didn’t call before noon,
but your conversation has nothing to do with us. 

I tried to sneak out
but you grabbed my hand.
You kissed it,
then asked,
“Could I see you again?” 

I’m sure my mom would have lots to say,
if she knew where I woke up today.

can we talk

in

can we talk

no period?
no urgency
all lowercase
casual
like you and me 

if this is about switching shifts,
just say that
if it’s about the other night
i promise i’ll pay you back
we aren’t an us
so this isn’t that kind of talk

unless

you want something else,
something more, not less
i’m not sure want that
but
i could be convinced 

i like to read
but never between the lines
seriously.
who sends a text like that? 

but worse,
how do i answer it?


 

first hint to drop

in

We spend nights in your room waiting for the first hint
                                                                                          to
                                                                                              drop.

phone
glasses
dress
jeans 

my guard.
your reservations.

My fingers wound up in your curls.
Tell me what you want,
breathless,
I’ll whisper my own desire.  

Our mouths, greedy,
Our hands, greedier. 

My skin, raw from stubble and teeth.
Yours, marked where my nails sank in.

A secret passed between our hips.
A secret sealed by our swollen lips.
A secret held as we fell asleep,
surrounded by the soft scent of your lavender shampoo.

tempest

in

A tempest brews between us,
cycling between the rain and our clouded judgment.
Your breath grazes my skin,
prickling in anticipation,
the charged air holds me
still
in hesitation. 

My pulse thunders through my body,
eager to echo through yours. 

A new storm approaches
with a close and deafening roar.
We run for cover,
but it’s too late to hide.  

The winds blow stronger,
your breathing erratic.
I hush mine,
as if it could ground me. 

Lighting strikes.

I still at your touch.
Gusts at full force,
Lighting strikes again.

Thunder booms,
vibrating through our bodies
alight and in sync.

The rain slides off us,
desperate to extinguish what we ignited.

 Nothing anchors us now,
as we drift dangerously through the night.

empty cups

in

Your gaze settles on me,
tracing my shoulders,
daring me to look up. 

I resist.

When your eyes are preoccupied,
I steal glances at you and find her.  

She clings to your arms.
She drinks in your honeyed words.
hoping each sip,
brings her closer to the source of it.  

Should I tell her that
I know
Your mouth is even sweeter
than she hopes it is? 

I’ll keep that secret
I’ll keep my distance
until there are only empty cups
in an empty room
filled
with just the two of us.