16 Feb


His legs violins.
He says they do not understand
But he sees it in the way I walk.
The fire on his face burns too hot,
His finger drawing a line up his cheek,
And we are alone.
Hands on my waist,
He licks my face,
We turn and turn.


She asks me, “what do you do when you don’t feel you’re good enough?”
And she is vulnerable
The mother,
Her bones are thin.
Holding me,
Glass eyes cracking
Leaking her fears.
She struggles to be loved,
Despite herself.


At first we are strangers
We do not speak in words
But I know his voice
I hear it in the way he moves
And I listen
I give him that much, no more.
And then the song ends
His breath on my neck
I hold him closer
I give him music
We move like fish
The room disappearing
Like water flowing
I forget myself
We travel like old friends
Sharing the stories of our bodies


I watch her
I become her
I feel him inside me


We are dancing on glass
Legs like knives
Cutting time
In slow motion
Waiting as singular raindrops
Strike piano keys opening
A window to everything you remember
Your mouth holding secrets
Like chocolates
Savoring the flavor
Your glasses sit upon a table
Your arms around my neck
Pixie kisses
Skylight brilliance.


Her lips too ripe for kissing
Kohl-slashed eyes
Forgotten pins prick
Her selfish skin
Corseted, bruised, silent
Legs like vinyl hairpins
Laughing through her skin
Into the hour when night turns into day
And the dancers return home
Gambling their emotions
In vacant stairwells


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: