9. 06. 2017

Our conversations are morphing into side effect show and tell

We are our own classes and there seems to be no contraindication,

but fuck, I still run through the signs in my head

Still play back the days where we were unmedicated, unmitigated lovers loving every second of our interactions

 

And you are changing now

But I don’t love this less

I will assess you, taste test you, slide my hands over your body

and learn who you are today

 

Placate this pressure in my chest that boils over when I think of the frequency of your voice dropping to my feet instead on grazing my cheek

When I think of your soft, your smoothness, your rounded edges melting off to reveal the hard

When I think of your hunger getting worse, and the things you might do to satiate it

 

I have no way of knowing who you are going to be,

but I see that you care for me

I will take that solace like my last dose

What I hope for most is your happiness

 

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9. 05. 2017

Your truth is scrawled across your knuckles,

like nobody knows you better

Like your mother looked at you when you were a kid and thought

“That boy’s hands are gonna get him in some trouble”

 

We were young and you wrapped around me like tree limbs

Like we were the forests to be explored

You showed me how butterfly becomes

How chrysalis entangles the undeveloped and forms the new

 

We were only children in hindsight,

if ever at all

I think of that avenue of possibility with

crimson cheeks,

9am tears

 

The years have now taken you prisoner

Long after sleepless nights and poison for breakfast

You were there when I couldn’t be alone

When I couldn’t make this couch feel like resting place

you were my resting place

 

If you were gone at least I could hope you’d ascended

But you are not someplace better

You are tucked into bed of grief,

target on back,

name on hands

 

(Pretty Boy)

6.16.2017

I feel darkness creeping into me

The lines on your face are more defined when the lights are off

And I can sense the quarter century you own on the surface of your skin

 

I am not sure how instrumental I want you to be in the functions of my life

Windows and opportunity clouded by aesthetic, struggle, and momentary satisfaction

All of which are not my own

 

When did you begin looking at me with a critical eye?

And getting this drunk

Panicking when the flask is empty — the word “need” perched on the tip of your tongue

(Like an addict)

 

I want your warmth and softness without the sharpness of your glances

Or half-promises

Or indifferent kisses

 

Can you at least pretend that I’m still magic

Please touch me

I still melt beneath your fingertips

5.27.2017

Impervious to warmth

Though you wrap yourself around me and call it comfort

Call it grounding

And then say nothing at all

 

“I’ve missed you”s muttered through shaking breath

Sighs, moans

I lose myself in our kisses, and find myself once more

Afterwards

In the mirror — eyes, lifeless

Burdened with the weight of disappointment

4.14.17

I don’t feel lovesick

I just feel sick

Nausea, pins and needles on the skin, dizziness

Symptoms of uncertainty

 

I touch you and then retreat into my thoughts

Body tucking into its self, folding, praying for disappearance

Now, when I don’t long for your touch, or the sensation of your hands around my neck

I feel suffocated by you

 

 

I felt myself letting you down every moment we were together

And could not stop

No one likes someone encumbered by negativity

Self-hating egotist

 

I have been trying to escape the grip of self-absorption

But the way you’ve been looking at me has me spiraling

Insanity coiling around me

 

Things feel bad

Like a good dream gone wrong

Not quite nightmare, not quite escape

 

2.1.2017

This is holiness

Good dreams, euphoria

Downy and sweet

Holistic pleasure

 

We are making homes in one another’s souls

Your door has a window, receiving second hand sunlight from the heavens

 

There is no midnight or noon, or time at all

There is only a fullness

Cores overflowing with blossoming flowers, glittering light emanating from security

 

This is everything

1.14.2017

I’m trying to tell myself not to get caught up on the little things, the things that don’t matter

But I am keenly aware of the fact that a collection of the insignificant is what constitutes the intangible

And that the basis of feeling is immeasurable

 

So anxiety persists

(pink and white, pink to white)

The simultaneous is now the transitional

Your hair is shorter now and so is my attention span

But I still have the focus to take in the complexity of your irises, whether purple or green

Losing phone calls in the blankets: a pastime they will never understand

 

I am not alone when I am with you, but together we are a singularity