When the “Best” Comes Pt. 1

It will be something simple like:
we will dance
in the kitchen,
and I’ll be cooking something edible.
And you will hold me from behind
still swaying to the music playing off
of whatever medium it comes through.
Our shoes will be kicked off
and the table will be set
and there will be a vase full of
lily of the valleys or hydrangeas
or peonies
and from the window,
light will stream in.
I will sit across from you
in our dining room,
we will join hands and
thank God for the food,
for this life,
for everything that aligned
just the way He wanted it, too.
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When She Passes By

after Caitlyn Siehl’s “Her, Her, Her”

I met you
sputtering
with her name on your tongue
and the bass beat of “hurt”.
There was a road wrapped tight around your body,
cities popping up like scars out of flesh,
well-worn and rugged.
You called them “her”.
I called her “gone”.

I met your mouth
with a clash of teeth
your tongue lodged down my throat
with a taste of her.
There are shelters in my hip bones and
hostels on my breasts and you come to each
like a weary traveler begging for rest,
reaching for blankets that look a lot like bodies.
They are not “her”.
You say “someone”.

I meet you
years later,
with a boy on my arm
and my heart beating “content”.
He tries to introduce us but you say
“I know her.”
There are skyscrapers sitting in my palms and clouds rolling in your eyes like we have made it to that city, our city, just to watch it downpour.
You tell him “Keep her”.
He tells you “I’m already gone.”

Literary Sexts: August 6th – December 26th

xxi.
We tumble together, a ball of limbs.
Mixed together with you, I doubt I’ll ever want to untangle myself again.

(Baby, This is As Close as We’ll Come to Being Gymnasts)
xxii.
He presses his lips to my lips and it is like I have never felt balm before.
If I am breathing wound, he is living salve.

(His Touch is the Best Medicine)

xxiii.
You wake my body like revival;
I come alive gasping,
drenched in our new gospel.

(Dip Me  Our Sins Again)

xxiv. “
We dance in the storm like the raindrops are making a song just for us. I watch our reflection in the puddles and fall into the rhythm of this new lovers’ waltz.

(You Prefer Your Ballrooms Underwater)

xxv.
The thought of you hits me like I am a timpani;
I catch my breath and the bass rumbles through me.
My pulses races with the snare’s quick beat.

(Drumlines Got Nothing on My Heartbeat)

xxvi.
Kiss me like Christmas morning:
unwrap my tongue like it is a present;
string lights in my eyes as if I am evergreen.

(Lover, Let’s Take a Holiday)

xxvii.
You touch me like paper mache; before anyone else can marvel at your creation, you’re kissing the strips away.
This is what I mean when I say he is jealous for me.

(I Want to be Your Give and Take)

xxviii.
You wrap me up like blanket fort.
I scrunch my face at you until my profile is making shadow puppets on the wall.
Let’s stay huddled together, claim we need warmth

(Lover, You are Most Comfortable Fortress)

xxix.
You kiss me in the moonlight just so you can watch the Sun’s sister sigh.
You got her blushing red and I prefer to watch that over any sunrise.

(Our Love Lights Up the Night Sky)

xxx.
I watch you speak in waves,
some sentences strung together like poetry.
I spend my days basking in their rhythm,
letting each word crash over me.

(With You, Lover, I’ll Gladly Be Lost Out at Sea)

xxxi.
Press yourself into me.
I want to feel the print on your tongue;
coat my body in your poetry.

(I Will Be Your Printing Press)

xxxii.
Flood your lips over me in currents. Make my cheeks blush salmon. I can only imagine the effect of our affection if we went ice-fishing.

(Baby, I Crave to Float Your Rough Waters)

xxxiii.
Take my hand into your hurricane and let’s station ourselves like anchors in the eye together.
In the 90 mile per hour gusts, when our faces are plastered into Scream-mask smiles and our knees are buckling so that we may sink like the Titanic into this wind-beaten ground,
know that you, and only you, are the one thing that will forever knock the breath out of me.

(Lover, Do Not Shelter Me from Your Storms)

xxxiv.
He says he has the hands of a carpenter, not soft, like my past lovers.
By this he means: “Not good enough”.
I tell him to carve me;
whittle me with his words until I am nothing
but sawdust kissing the ground and he
is the one sweeping me up.

(He Loves Me with Wood-chippings)

xxxv.
He collects my poems like fireflies;
pokes holes in the lid and says:
“This how I know I’m alive.”

(He Says My Words are like Light)

xxxvi.
Our bodies are tectonic plates;
every time we meet,
California cries again.

(Our Love is Earth Shaking)

xxxvii.
You twist my body like kaleidoscope and I am left seeing our love in technicolor.

(Color Me Desire)

xxxviii.
I want to be your dream weaver; your midnight ballerina:
Let me pirouette through your every fantasy.
May the footprints I leave on your brain, make you smile in your sleep.

(I Dream of Us Waltzing and That Means More than Sex to Me)

xxxix.
You solve me problematic.
Using your black and white way of thinking, you turn our feelings into something logical, while your hands become variables continuously solving for “x”.

(I am Your Favorite Equation)

xl.
He calls himself cartographer. I let him draw my hills, my valleys, my oceans, until all that’s left of me is an island, uncharted;
hidden from his maps on purpose because I am his and his alone.

(Lover, I Am but One Man’s Land)

xli.
You are magician
and I am assistant,
anticipating your next sleight of hand.

(You Saw My Heart in Half)

xlii.
You say my name like a gasp;
like for the first time, syllables have combined to taste sweeter than oxygen.
Breathe all of me in.

(You, Alone, Steal My Breath)

xliii.
We close our eyes only to be blinded by the angels’ light. Choosing to accept their approval, we are left strumming each other’s ribcages like harp strings and scratching hymns into one another’s spines.

(Let This Be Our Preferred Brand of “Hallelujah”)

xliv.
I want your lips like ink on my skin. I want your art etched into every inch.

(You, love, are a Pain I’ll Tolerate)

xlv.
Enter my body like casino;
roll my hips like roulette wheel,
draw cards from my spine.
You’re betting on a good night, and I’m all in.

(I’ll be Your Lady Luck Tonight)

xlvi.
Our hips clash like the fall of Rome.
With your nails in my back, I am an empire on fire; a body begging: “Ruin me! Ruin me!”

(All Roads Lead to You, Love)

xlvii.
Fold me like paper crane. Bend my origami spine until I can fit in the palm of your hand.

(Crease Me Beneath You)

xlviii.
Open my mouth like daybreak.
Watch my cheeks flood with both sunrises and sunsets.|
Drift your hands over me like shadows.
Bask in my glow.
Beg: ‘Lover, let your light shine in’
and never let me go.

(He Says I am Brighter than the Most Beautiful Mornings)

xlix.
I wake up to you and the scent of glue. My arms pasted around your waist and the feeling of someone who sticks.
Be careful, love, I could get used to this.

(I Wouldn’t Mind Being Stuck with You)

l.
My body is your mountain lodge.
Let’s share heat on rugs made from our shed clothes and I will welcome the goose flesh that rises to my skin.
If you are blizzard lover, I wouldn’t mind being snowed in.

(Winter is Coming, Gasping, Begging for More)

li.
Roll me around on your tongue like candy. Stretch my body out like taffy and sprinkle kisses over every inch. Leave pleasurable bruises the color of gumdrops in places no one’s ever seen.
Unwrap me and savor.

(You are both Sweet and Tempting)

lii.
Pull me out of the woodwork.
Smooth my edges with your sandpaper mouth as we rub against the grain.
I am never wooden with you, darling.

(Carve Me into Something Wonderful)

liii.
I make my body electric rod every time you hold me.
Allow your touch to caress me like lightning.
Pray it strikes twice when our lips meet.

(For You, I’m Ever-shocking)

liv.
I want your hands roving over my body of highway at 80mph in the middle of a rainy December.
I want the mist of your kisses spraying up from the asphalt.
I want to be drenched.

(Go Downpour on Me)

lv.
Let me be your “Midsummer Night’s Dream”. No spell cast, no mule’s head,
but a fool for you, nonetheless.

(I Will be Both Lover and Lunatic)

lvi.

You are the sunset in my mouth and my tongue is an ever anxious palette. When I blush in blue, pink, and gold, tell them it’s an outside reflection.

(Let Me Sink in Your Horizon)

lvii.
If you are seeking religious experience, cry out my name.
I will come to you quicker than God.
They will light a candle for your soul not knowing how you only started believing when I licked you like a flame.

(Find Me and We’ll Make Heaven on Earth)

lviii.
I want you to make me the cold that burns. Feel your showerhead cascade against my naked shiver.
I want your heat to bite my frost as we welcome the icy fire.

(Lover, Let’s Mix Temperatures)

lix.
Kiss me until all I can taste are galaxies.
Discover my body like a constellation and only revolve around me.

(Love Me by the Moon and Treat Me Like Your Sun)

lx.
Hold me where our rivers meet the ocean;
let yours begin where mine ends.
I want to go out drowning,
drinking all of you in.

(Wash Over Me Constantly)

Splits

We dance
as a tangle
of limbs,
knots rubbed smooth
and cut fresh off of our
tree like
bodies,
I call myself willow,
and bend under your sequoia touch.

And I do not care
if no one was in the forest
when they felled us.

Because no one but us
should have to witness
the sawdust
split into stars
as my boughs kissed the ground
pulling up your roots,
and having your body meet mine.

We are natural galaxy of branches.
Our leaves like moons
as our trunks
orbit
one ‘round the other,
‘Love’ as sun.

And this is why trees have rings:
recycled promises
for all the things
they couldn’t say
when they were falling.
For the universe
of “I love you”s
that couldn’t be caught on the breeze.

Instead we make a bed of the forest floor,
pillows of sewn together leaves,
and pine needles as sheets.
Consider it lucky,
to have our downfall be due
to roots ensnared together
rather than by some
cynic yelling:
“Timber!”

Just Carry Me Home Tonight

I tell him:
“We’re gonna travel this world
together;
just you wait.”

And he laughs
like each syllable is promised
and tomorrow won’t be just another day.

And I tell him about how
there is ugly in the hills
and there is beauty in the valleys
and I want to roll over both.
I tell him to be my back support
when I am arching my spine toward the mountain
pretending that for a second,
I, too, can carry the world on my shoulders.

He allows me to think this.

I feel it when my fingers
twine with his.
I see it in the way
he meets my green
eyes with his blue ones
and we are the colors
of this mangled chaotic
earth that are most recognizable from space
and dear God,
that is yet another plane
we will one day reach.

I don’t know if he knows this.

I tell him about how
I’ve never slept by anyone’s side,
but there is something comforting in falling
asleep to the sound of his voice
even if my only reply is me breathing.

I think he knows that travelling
is my way of saying
“We will survive this life
together;
just you wait.”

And he laughs,
like each syllable is a promise
and tomorrow could be more than just another day.

I sigh
and say his name.

This is My New Endeavor

I wanna get better.

He sings,
and I want to know
if he knows
how he’s talking
to me.

I wanna get better.

Like it’s not the mantra
of a generation;
like being in one’s head
is an every day
malady
something simple like
“monotony”.

I wanna get better.

So so bad;
I want to be able to look at myself
and not pinch
layers of skin;
I want to look at myself and smile again.
I want to look at my reflection
and go:
There I am.”

I wanna get better.

To understand that
“healing”
is not necessarily complete
because I’m
”with” someone.
That recovery is happening
before falling in love again.
Being a girl-
friend
will not be
the puzzle piece answer to all of my
problems.

I wanna get better.

And stop with the comparisons.
I want to love each
inch of myself
with the fervor of
the seraphim.
I want to crave my own company
the way I crave to hold
another’s hand.
I want to love what I stand for
and the person I am.
And that is not
them.

I wanna get better.

I wanna erupt into fire
and wear my ashes like badges of honor.
Not even think their names
let alone,
remember them.
I want to be defined as
somebody in the now
and not a poet stuck on the
“then.”

I wanna get better.

Get closer with God,
family,
and friends.
Love
without fear of falling
for false intentions.
Want to learn about Him
and myself
and find fellowship in
a church
I want to attend.

I wanna get better.

And though I don’t want to
need their validation,
it’d be nice to be looked at
and have someone say:
“She’s only human and therefore
not perfect,
but my God, does she seem
content.”
And maybe by then

I will be better.

Body Party

“I know you hear my body calling you…”

So put down the phone;
Prowl across the mattress,
push the tendrils of chocolate off my
face & tease.

Gently at first,
mouth to mouth, but lips aren’t
touching & I don’t know
if you’re breathing me
in or stealing my breath.
You smile wickedly, nonetheless.

And as my chest is rising,
I’m pushing your hands down
reluctantly & you are biting &
whispering all the things you could
do to me.

My heart has fallen past my
stomach.
All chords you are plucking are
below the belt.
And you are no longer merely caressing.

When you squeeze
you are memorizing flesh;
you are letting my sighs,
my moans,
cloy your memory.
You are relishing this power
over me.
Only you can tune me to the
right key.

And suddenly your lips
ignite every note & my body
fills with wind & I am an
organ.
Blood rushing,
flushing,
throughout & I don’t know if
I am saying your name
or confusing you for God.

Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

1,2,3,4,
Pumps &
breath falling
all over me;
whispering:

“My body’s calling you.”