Category Archives: cecilie k

New Skin

Such arrogance found in the hands of lovers
who dare unwrap each other
despite their knife nails.
You cut me with your forked tongue so often
I keep a first aid kit tucked behind my excess rib.
We love like gods
reincarnated
and not yet used to these fragile bodies.
We don’t expect this to hurt as much as it does.
And yet
we just can’t help ourselves.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under cecilie k, love, poetry, Uncategorized

My Heart Forgets Itself

This isn’t a love poem, just so you know.
If my heart hasn’t learned by now not to beat
so hard
when you’re close by.
I’m not sure It’ll ever learn.
to be perfectly
honest
I know
I’m about as subtle as a train wreck,
I expect strangers to stop
in their tracks and say wow,
wow look at her.

Damn.

This isn’t a love poem, not even remotely.
this is
like vaguely remembering running out
into a storm

into your teeth.
Over and over again.
I want
to be ruined,
to be torn.
Flayed.
So open you can see
my stupid bloody heart,
shouting:
I can’t help it, I can’t help it.

Fuck.

Leave a comment

Filed under cecilie k, poetry, spilled ink, this is not a love poem

I want you to kiss me in any weather

Come find me in the spring, I have opened all the windows and let the nightmares out.
I’ve dusted all my shelves of old fears, my pillow smells like relief and I can’t shake this,
this longing from my limbs, this laughter from my tongue.
Come find me here, the streets are wet with rain, wash it all away.
Wash it and hang the whole city up to dry.
Shake the bad dreams of it and chase them through the streets like foxes.
Go, shout, go.
Come find me.

The sun pours in my window like a waterfall to shake me awake,
I went to bed at dawn, my feet sandy, my mattress dirty and everything smells like grass.
And strawberries.
Kiss me on my mouth it is full of red juice,
bring me coffee in bed and kiss my stomach.
Let’s never go outside, but open the door and let the summer in.
Kiss me.

Everything dies and it’s fine.
Let the shaky, summer burnt feeling die.
Too much of everything and now our bodies intertwine under the duvet like a flower crown.
Let’s hang it on the wall and remember how our summer bodies tasted.
Open the window and let the breeze in, air out the sweat and saltwater.
It’s time to rest. Come to bed, don’t worry, don’t worry.

Like a nest, like a cave, like dry woods carried through the storm.
Shelter them, you need them, shelter them even if your back is burning.
I can’t open any windows or any doors, but everything is crystal cold and I can see your breath.
We’re alive, we’re alive and in this cold winter we will be frostbitten together.
I have so many mugs and I have so many survival skills for this.
It will be ok.

Leave a comment

Filed under a year, cecilie k, love poetry, poetry, seasons, spilled ink