Meandering

I don’t know if what I am is manic

When I spill all over the place

Seem to spatter onto whatever I can find for canvas

Wild, sporadic

Without reason, but with intent

But the calculations run in the background

Hidden from me

Negative space

Writing this i am aware i am mixing metaphors

I am trying to decide if i care

I care too much and what I mean by that is i care too little

Grilling away at the smallest details

I lost where I started.

Sometimes, I step in or outside of myself and  wonder how I got here, look around my room and wonder who chose to put that picture on the wall, or who drank that tea?

Not me.

May 1, 2015

If I were to push you from my mind,

How far would you fall?

Would you crash?

Shatter into a million pieces,

Or would you land on the ledge

Just outside my consciousness

Where you will wait

Before you slowly begin your climb

Back inside.

Home Cooking

I never wondered what

my birth mother smelled like

never pondered the

sound of her voice

or scratch in her laugh

Or if I did, I don’t remember

There are lots of things

I don’t remember

Memories my mind

keeps me safe from

They leak into my dreams

at times

Leaving me haunted

for days

I bet she smelled like home

cooking

and sweet peaches

and sunlight

I bet her laugh is

loud, when she really

lets it out.

 

Heartbeat

Late at night,

When darkness drifts around me,

my mind wanders and

I wonder what you think,

When you think of me

Does your heart pound, nervously,

in your chest?

When we’re falling asleep

I put my hand on your heart, or

My head on your neck, just

To feel your pulse, just

To see if it’s racing

In time with my own

Sometimes it is

and it is in those moments that

I’ll pull you into me

Around me

Covering myself with your chest

your thighs,

your sex,

I want to press against you

to feel held

to feel loved

You rest your hand on my hip

Gently, tentatively

Afraid of me

or yourself

I cannot tell

A battle rages inside of you

I can feel it in your movements

You shift away from me,

then towards me

Until it seems there is only you,

and me,

and your hand,

and my hip

Until my breathing becomes even

and I settle against you

and you ease yourself into me

As we fall,

hesitantly,

blissfully,

asleep.

 

Wandering Mind

The bees are dying

she makes me laugh

deep, gutteral, soulful

we pulled paint brushes down and across

grained, knotted wood

she told me I could sleep in her bed forever

I cuddled with her dog

she holds my face when she kisses me

last night, just before falling asleep

I felt her rain kisses down my spine

being held is a radical concept

there’s a cut on my finger

I don’t remember where it came from

Fair Trade

I dripped blood on my notebook,

as a Sacrifice, blood of my womb

to birth a poem

Fair trade

I’m beginning to doubt if my womb

will shed anything but blood

I live in a perpetual state of loneliness

I’m not certain what it would be like

to care for someone else

I’m content in my selfishness

cozy in my solitude

My mind keeps me company

Helps to wile away the hours and

my  hands are my lovers,

they know me well

serve me well

intimacy

i miss letting people in

i’ve never done it with lovers

only friends

and i haven’t done so in a long long time

people get confused though

because i share details of my life

things which some people would hold

so closely to their chests, never to spill out

i dump all over the floor

i do it for me, not for them

i am purging myself of my pain

but that is not intimacy, it is not closeness

 

not for me

 

to me, intimacy is when i lay my head on a lap

when i share a bed with someone and we let the night drift around us

the lights are out and we send our voices into the darkness

carrying whatever hope or fear or thought held within us

knowing that it will be caught by the other person

intimacy is knowing that even if all you are greeted with

is soft, even breathing, you are still heard

still loved

i miss that.

it has been years.

i want to find it again, in a lover

 

and a friend.