Crashing Into the Fall

Crashing Into the Fall

Maybe it’s just Autumn.
The leaves are falling.
the air begins to smell like Winter,
and I am finding myself again.
Maybe I don’t need this distraction
right now, or ever, but
you’ve burrowed under my skin
and heart, to my very soul.
You’ve cut me to the core.
I’m a boat, abandoned at sea
and you, the lighthouse,
but no one’s home
and I’m crashing.

Fresh and Fresher; Hope and Hopeless

Fresh and Fresher; Hope and Hopeless

Hopeless romantic
or perhaps I’m simply
hopeless. Stolen moments,
fleeting. I get precious seconds
before you’re gone,
a butterfly beautiful,
flighty, riding the breeze,
one fancy to the next.
Who are you to me?
Nothing is simple.
I reach into my holster
and draw nothing but blanks.
My mind is emptier than your words,
I’m clueless.
My fists still clench in anger
at the thought.
You’re a modern Rembrandt
longing for fresh new canvas
to fill with your colors,
but this masterpiece was finished
many years ago.
I hardly need new paint.
I cannot bear that burden,
for you or any man.

Making Love, Sustainable

Making Love, Sustainable

In the sparse darkness of the night,
my features are frail ghosts
straining to break free.
Your eyes are the only focal point,
small winking stars
keeping me moving steady,
like a king on a great pilgrimage
I am coming to you.
I would gladly hide behind
a jeweled and feathered mask,
cover my insecurities with fancy linen
and line up for the waltz,
press palm to stranger’s palm
in a foreign country,
but my life isn’t meant
for such worldly scenes.
It is meant for you.
I would offer my heart
on a platter of silver,
my soul in a fancy bottle,
if I thought it would be enough.
You’ve been my life boat
when everything in my world
was nothing but a sinking cruise liner,
when my entire life
broke in half like the Titanic,
and I was left drowning in its wake.
You reached your hand into the deep,
glimmering oblivion of night,
searched through the debris,
and found me
like I was a newly minted pearl.
You shaped me, like clay,
hiding all my faults,
revealing all the beauty
trapped inside my tortured soul.
We are the pharaohs of affection,
an eternal pair of lovers
brought together across sky,
sea, earth, and time.
When all things come to an end,
you and I will float
like butterflies,
above the ruins of cities.

Conquer

Conquer

I am not afraid.
I wish to lay bare before you,
flayed open to your eyes,
completely exposed. I am
willing to be unwrapped
like a present on Christmas morning,
all my surprises revealed
to your naked eye. Treat me as
your canvas, blank and ready
to be painted, to be filled
with color. I am clay, yearning
to be molded by your capable,
eager hands.
You are my golden calf,
I worship at your feet,
forsaking any higher power
than the love you give, I
am a staunch believer
in your religion,
preach to me. Reach
to me. Across lonely miles
or oceans, rivers or valleys,
mountains and towns.
I will feel you, no matter how far
you may be, no distance is
too vast, no burden too great.
You are the only star
in my nighttime sky, a
single lighthouse beacon
calling to me in the darkness,
leading me home across the sea.
You’ve found me, hidden
like treasure, untouched
by human hands for centuries,
a fossil encased in a limestone tomb,
cushioned by years of dirt and time,
of progress. You discovered me
like a new continent,
claiming me for your own.
I have been conquered.

We Are Love

We Are Love

We weren’t born for
the world of champagne,
pearls, masquerade thrills,
Egyptian cotton sheets
or expensive high-heeled shoes.
You know how we prefer
cigarette smoke against the sky,
late-night marathon conversations,
holes in our fishnets, our hearts,
our cardigans. Tattoos of
broken hearts or black widows or ballet dancers,
chipped nail polish and illegal substances,
wild car rides and sequined bustiers,
our pride bolstered by
how great we look in thigh highs
or pancake makeup,
our corsets and high-heels.
We’re the scavengers, the
art nouveau – young, or
old, with our choppy hair
or heavy-lidded eyes, waves
and red lipstick, pressing
our lips together outside, inside,
under fluorescents or sunlight.
We’re hands clasped together
late in the night, magnets
with opposite pulls.
We’re the vampires of this fair city,
burning easily in daylight but
owning the streets after midnight,
unkempt and savage,
brutal but beautiful. We are
the lovers, the dancers, the dreamers.
We’re the music-makers
and the artistes. We spin our tales,
our webs, the heads of passerby,
we break into song and
steal hearts. We are thieves in the night,
vandals and scoundrels
hooligans and whores.
We are love. And we do not apologize.

Kryptonite

Kryptonite

You see me as perfect,
but I am no heroine.
I can’t control my own fate,
let alone the fate of the world.
I’m unable to leap tall buildings
in a single bound, walk through walls,
or see through time. I’m more
kryptonite than Lois Lane,
far more likely to impede
than to help. Glorious, decadent.
I’ll sneak up on you like a ninja,
and you’ll never even see me coming.

Always and Forever

Always and Forever

Syrup sweet, your tough
is like heroin to
my system, overload,
overcome, overflowing,
with love and with joy,
I just can’t fathom being
anywhere but here, with
anyone but you. You
are my bridge, my boat,
my ocean. My savior.
I’m always and forever,
yours.

Enchantment

Enchantment

Blinking signs. Stars.
Cars are killer whales
in the ocean of the dark.
I draw breaths like inspiration,
crumpled thoughts, napkins,
unfinished concepts in my mind.
You can’t change the channel,
push some button –
get a smile instead of this
Technicolor attitude,
curled like tendrils of ivy.
I'm sunshine inkblots,
wooden cubed,
silk-interiored. Unbelievable.
You’re a doctor in your own right,
sterile-gloved, heart
still beating in your chest.
Isn’t this how love should be?
Fragile-winged, like
first-born fledglings in Spring,
simple, tragic,
and beautiful.

Anyone But Me

Anyone But Me

“Where did you sleep last night?
And was she worth it?
Was she worth it?” – Cher


You’d rather find solace in a stranger’s curves,
bury your face in a foreign shoulder, press
your lips to unknown skin instead
of wrapping your hands around my hips,
kissing these lips that know yours so well.

You’d rather wake in a stranger’s bed,
the scent of her house lingering on you
like the cheap perfume I’m sure she wears,
the cheap moves she pulled to get you
exactly where she wanted you.

You’d rather touch a stranger’s face,
feel new lips under your fingers,
run your hands down her curved cheeks
and pretend I never existed,
that this is actually making you happy.

You’d rather be her one night stand,
a notch in her proverbial bed post,
another conquest for her to brag about
or the reason she breaks
someone else’s heart.

You’d rather be with anyone else.
Anyone but me.

Slip (Back)

Slip (Back)

I’m broken in the wake
of your harsh disappointments
(my reality), the way you
callously cut me out of your heart
like a surgeon, removing me
like I was nothing more
than an ingrown fingernail,
a pesky clogged artery.
Your eyes would reveal
multitudes (I’m sure)
if only I could gaze into them,
I know they’d betray you
which is why, perhaps,
you choose to stay so far from me
(afraid) that you’d slip
back into my arms
and I’d slip back into your heart.