Watching (In our library)

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We made love on our library floor.

With all of them watching.

Hemingway and Bukowski thought, I was the most ferocious woman.

Where as Shakespeare and Fitzgerald whispered of how well you performed.

While Poe thought of all the dreadful things that might happen, if we ever decided to let go.

It was only Dickinson, who understood why.

So many of the best moments only happen, every once in a while.

No matter how hard we try, to capture the feeling in a poem or a photograph.

And just as she,

These thoughts, these feelings

Are intended for none, although seen by many.

There are no thunderstorms in California

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There are no thunderstorms in California.

Oh, how I adore the smell of the wet warm earth after a storm. How I would wait to hear thunderous crackle, to see the sparks forged from the sky. But nothing.

There are no thunderstorms in California.

Sometimes, I close my eyes and imagine your sound. I imagine the raindrops that would gently kiss my skin, opening my pores in the most delightful way. I would jump, puddle to puddle racing through the tall grass. Just me and the elements. Once the lightning struck, I would then run into a small stone home. Where it would be warm inside from the fireplace, just in the living room. What a perfect mixture of smoked wood and petrichor. If you open all the windows, you could get a view of the long stretch of land, never ending. Silently, I would watch as the Heavens struck Earth.

There are no thunderstorms in California, but when I close my eyes anything is possible.

August 3rd

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Warm summer evenings, with planes that hover in the sky. How subtle, it fades from pastel blue to a saturated shade of pink. If you are still enough, you can feel the light breeze. It’s instantaneous, but like the day, still warm. Hummingbirds chase one another around a nearby tree. The wind picks up its pace and blows more heavily. There are so many sounds, some can be described and some can’t. Now in this moment, I realize that this could be it, the answer I’ve been searching for. In this life, everything has a name and with it a description, label or category. But isn’t there a beauty in things that can’t be describe, a sort of peace in the balance of two things, contrary. Different, but the same, broken, but whole, radiant, but melancholy. I wonder, if some things aren’t meant to be defined, if some things need no explanation? If some things just simply are? I am now sitting here, on this patio watching the sky slowly transition from day to night. The wind now sings, a slightly chilled tune and I have been trying to figure out, just how to describe this feeling. All that comes to mind is everything that surrounds me. I sit, I type, attempting to write, but I still know not the words to describe it. And truthfully, I think I’m fine with that. Let it manifest and let it remain a mystery.

The creator

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There’s nothing I want more than to be closer to my creator. For you have shaped my skin and bone. Made every beauty mark and scar. You stretched out the subtle space between my two front teeth. You made my hair so wild, it even defies gravity, and my skin the very shade of the earth, that we walk upon.

All this, so that I would remember to love myself, never settling for less than I deserve. You made sure to send people into my life who would help teach me, patience. Molded me with kindness and fire, so that I could push through adversity. You made a rough draft of my life, crumbled it up into a ball and said, I’ll let her decide. Whether she will or will not follow all my signs.

Love me either way, but constantly remind me that really, truth and raw beauty lies inside.

Dear Strangers

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I have had so many love affairs with my eyes.

Direct & enticing

Deliberate & sweet.

In this moment, you have somehow become mine.

Remove every layer of cloth, while I trace my fingers along your scars, down your spine.

Allow me to create art.

Paint your body with soft strokes of emotion.

Water your mind.

I’m sorry, you like many have become victim to my art.

My body is at standstill, air passes through the lungs.

No sound escapes, but be sure that if I have ever loved you in any type of way. 

Whether forever or just a day.

You may never hear it from my mouth, but only know it from the words I write.

These words are mine and in this moment, so are you.

Too many lovers & somehow, still too few.

you melt me

We had made eye contact more than than once, twice. Now going for a third time, our eyes locked like lions on the prowl. My eyes wandered from his hair line, to the bridge of his nose, down to his slightly plumped lower lip, where I then looked away. Across the bar, he sat with two other men, friends I assumed. They were way too busy debating, who would win the football tournament to notice the exchange of our hungry looks. My friends, on the hand, had abandoned me to go dancing on tabletops with all the other alcoholics. His eyes caught mine again… glazed over from being lightly buzzed, I guess he was an alcoholic too, but it didn’t matter to me. The loud music blaring static in the background didn’t matter, neither did the sixty year old drunk over my shoulder, who insisted on buying me drinks the whole night. None of it mattered. All of a sudden he bit down on his lower lip, so deliberate, so sensual. It seemed as if we were in a room all alone, lit only by a single candle, with the faint sound of harsh acoustic roots and blues. This is what I imagined of course, none of it was real. I can remember, wishing I too was drunk like all the others, so I could muster the courage to walk right up to him and demand that he come home with me. But I wasn’t drunk, matter fact I was 100 % sober. Sober, miserable and lonesome staring into the eyes of my dubious, impending lover. Would he come to me or me to him? I played the various scenarios in my head over and over again, but still nothing. We both sat quietly at across road, waiting for the light to turn green. Hours later, I was calling a taxi for my two intoxicated friends, so my poor car seat wouldn’t receive, yet another victorious stain and that’s when he appeared. Locking eyes again, he paused and then continued to enter his car, speeding off into the night. “Well that’s that.” I thought , getting into my car. While driving, I approached a red light. Suddenly, I heard the revving of a car engine and there he was sitting to the left of me. He rolled his window down and with a smirk asked, “Will you come home with me?” I looked down shyly, then back at him, the light was green and we both sped off into the night.

His lips were on mine, before we even entered his place. The taste of his lips so soft, but threatening. His tongue and mine intertwined, as if it were fate that had brought the two together. His hands searching his back pocket for a key, distracted by the feeling of my waist, my hips pressed against his. I distanced my lips from his, allowing him to open the front door. He hit on the light switch, then gestured me to enter before him. It was small and crowded with piping still exposed. He reached into a cabinet behind the door, pulling out a match and lighting a candle in the middle of the floor, I turned off the lights. “So…” he whispered softly walking closer towards me. “What’s your name?” I looked down at my feet searching for the confidence to lie. “My name? My name is … um Honey.” I lied. “Honey, huh? Well, don’t you want to know my name Honey?” He grinned. “Um no… no I don’t. I think it’s better that way, don’t you?” I responded nervously. He stepped closer, his hands drifting from my face to my hips to my hands, guiding me to his bedroom. “It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got.” He mumbled. It was in that moment, that I felt a rush of anxiety, like I suddenly forgot how to breathe. “Do you have a bathroom? I just want to get more comfortable…” I muttered. “Yeah of course, it’s to the left.” He replied with a confused look on his face. After entering the bathroom, I locked the door behind me, glaring into the mirror at my own reflection. What was I doing here? How did I end up here? I splashed cold water onto my face, prying farther into my own thoughts. Was I really going to sleep with this man, this stranger? I have never done anything like this before, this daring, this stupid. These were the types of situations I was taught to avoid. I’ve never been so trusting, why was it different with him? I was completely drawn to him, for reasons I, myself were unaware of. So many thoughts raced through my head. Was this just a physical attraction, lust? No, there was more, or was there? Why did I allow myself to get to this place. He could be a murderer or a pervert, I had to be smart about this, I thought. I started to pace back and forth, back and forth, until I stopped, took a deep breath and slowly opened the bathroom door. The sound of smooth acoustic was playing on the radio. I walked back to the bedroom in nothing, but my fine silk lingerie, to find him passed out across his bed. “Beautiful…” I whispered. Then proceeded to lie down onto the sofa in the living room.

The next morning I woke up to the sound, ‘Like real people do’ by Hozier, birds chirping and the smell of burning waffles. I lifted my head from the sofa to find him standing there in the outfit, only God could design. “Good! You’re awake!” He shouted. “And you’re naked!?” I squealed covering my eyes. He busted into laughter. “So you’ve never seen a naked man before aye? I cooked breakfast, I think they’re a little underdone.” He said cocking his head sideways, looking strangely at the scorched waffles. “Under?” I chuckled. “Hey, I just wanted to say thank you, I feel so dumb… I mean, I don’t even know your name.” I said shamefully. “Well, I would say we are in the same boat… HONEY?” He laughed holding my driver’s license in his other hand, giving me that same devilish grin. “Looks like you’ve been waiting for the light to turn green. Well, what are you waiting for, honey.” He whispered placing the burnt waffles beside me on the sofa. I smiled slightly and then our lips met. “Can I ask you a question?” I asked pulling out of our embrace. “How would you describe a kiss like ours?” I muttered kissing the sides of his neck, up then down, then up again. ” Like… fireworks, you know like a star waning with countless titanic explosions, a supernova. A gentle, but fatal supernova.” He whispered softly in my ear. His hands held me so gently, so close, so warm. I was so much like the candle lit in the middle of floor from the night before and he, so much like the match.

“You…You melt me.” I smiled.

boys

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i hate boys

some make me feel like im not wanted

some make me feel like a toy

some think my soul doesn’t add up with the body that my spirit decided to enjoy

some think im a weirdo, they’re right i am

some are intimidated, they run away because they are scared

some no matter how much i do, don’t seem to care

some want me physically

none want me spiritually

so ill hate boys until the death of me

I wonder what it’s like to meet a Man.