Tag Archives: intimacy

Skeleton Love Affair

I’ve ground our love affair into bone dust that people will use to get their own heart beating.
Like that of ancient mythology dumbed down, simplified, made feral.
Drink this tea to break your own heart, sprinkle this over your meal to be better.
Your hands are on someone else’s breakfast table and I
did this.
Kiss me
and see how I make us into the fluttering of someone else’s eyelids,
heavy and heady are the words,
so unlike my own trembling lips and panting breath.
I will give them the bones of us,
but I will keep the flesh between my own teeth.

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Litany

You need to stop mapping your life by the name of your lovers.
As if you shed your skin and burn everything down whenever you lose one.
As if you can trace yourself back to the beginning with fingertips on different backs;
your lips on different necks.
It’s raining here again and you’re trying to wash away the touch of the last person to climb into your bed at 3 am whispering false litanies and pretending to sacrifice himself at your altar.
But your body is a temple with empty halls and empty rooms and he was not the praying type.
Do not decorate your walls with icons undeserving, do not so easily sink to your knees muttering words of worship,
take no false gods within you and stop,
stop mapping your life by the name of your lovers.
You are not scar tissue in the shape of a woman,
you are not meant to burn and devour senselessly.
It’s raining here again and you have forgotten you left yourself directions not by lovers footsteps,
but by words,
by songs.
And when you find your temple too cold in the winter, we’ll be here.
Come home.

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Urban exploring

You say you wish I could love me as much as you do,
but you love empty houses with a passion I find frightening.
Are you trying to climb inside my walls to see what others have left behind?
Will I be remembered as an adventure you tell your friends about,
the one time you set up camp and lived vigorously while I fell apart around you?
I’m being unfair and belittling, yes, because the alternative is that when you look at me you see something whole.
And for all I talk big of anger and forgiveness I dread to think that these feelings are mere phantom pains that will fade.
I love you, I love you, I love you and I’m scared you’ll come home and find my windows nailed shut.
I’m scared that for all the shouting and rain raging against my doors I will never open again.
For sake of argument, let’s pretend I’m a woman and not an empty house.
I need you to promise me you’ll always hold my face in your hands like you hold the key to something special,
because you’ll find in the process of rediscovering forgiveness and anger I also found greed.

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