Our love

I will make the lie easy for you
I’ll make it so that you don’t even have to say it

Look away when the tear rolls down my face though
You owe me that much

And I’ll stop asking what happens to those painters hands when their not enmeshed in mine

If only this love wasn’t so fragile
And I so weak that I tiptoe around it and whisper in its presence
afraid of what happens when it realizes it could do better

afraid it will never flourish under my green thumb
I’ve watered it
What more do you need, sweet love?

I’ve beat you up
I’ve cherised you
And now I lay rosebeds around you to shelter your fall

What more do you need, sweet love?

I’ve forgotten myself in my efforts to protect you

And I’ve wandered around with the pieces, looking for a way to repair it
Which way to the mender?
They told me I’d get there if I looked hard enough
And stopped asking those questions

So I’ll lay with you and feel your breath on my neck
And for tonight I won’t ask you whose nape your vapor grazes when I’m not with you
And for tonight, you won’t tell me any lies

Visceral

You are standing at my doorstep now
I open the bright pink gate and there we stand
Two souls open to knowing each other

And so it floods in
Our secrets and your veins protruding from your wrists when you sit on my bed and take your pulse because you’re scared
And as I rub your back it floods in

We weren’t cautious
And what have you done with my whispers and tears?

I’ve saved yours. Not on purpose of course.
The visceral memory of you is so suffocating it makes my bones crack
And I feel betrayed by my intellect which had spent all of its life convincing itself it was not an animal

Not this thing that sees the way your eyes droop at the corners
And your exigent laugh that cries out to fuck the world
Or the way my head fit so perfectly on your chest to take a nap and as your chest expanded to let in air I knew you were already broken
Your kisses placed along my spine and the way you reminded me to breathe
The way you reminded me to breathe…

Lungs expanding
5am and there I am in the streets of Compton looking for you
Like the crack rats I studied convincing myself I was superior to them because I could analyze and word them.
I could know them, but the only reason I could was because I was them. 5am and I’m convincing myself I’m not a crack rat while you’re convincing yourself you can conquer the world on your own
except there I am.
Fragile and in front of you, a mirror of you.

Were you afraid to be weak?
Was I afraid to admit who I really was fighting for?

And what became my medicine now poisons me
Silly girl
I should have known those eyes were a cautionary tale

When we were together I made it my job to memorize you
Guess I’m a masochist.

I walk through world with an image of you not in me but all around me.
I’m fine.
And then the wind blows and I smell you.
Or I catch a glimpse of curly hair and suddenly my stomach betrays me
Or I see that red coca-cola shirt or I feel deep within me
Deep within me.
There you are.
I’ll salute you every morning and say goodnight to you when it’s dark
And the only ones left are those with
Visceral memories that betray them.

The pink gate
That bandana
Your hands
Your hands…
The artist hands that painted my sorrow.

I could do Worse than You

I could do worse than stand at the edge with you holding your hand
Easy on the eyes and careless like the Hortensia

At other times Discombobulated and gasping for words

As they wheeze out into the hot summer air infected with mosquitoes begging for the warmth of you

I don’t know how to ask
Or how to help

All I know is I notice the dribble of sweat making its way down from your forehead glistening with rage
Or is it from your eyes that have seen too much of this world
And not enough of that heavenly planet where angels reside
Does it exist?

I could do worse than hope for it.

I could do worse than skip around from branch to branch looking for you
Creating an executive correspondence with the wind which can travel much farther than even my hardest run to search for you

And I suppose I could do worse than ask the yet living what it feels like to rejoice in your joy and wallow in your sorrows as my gaze stops even the strongest stampede

I am a warrior now
I will not stop
I could do worse than you.

Your Light- 1/23/11

I should be asking myself how the poets did it
Writing about beauty when there is little more to do but sigh

And stare at the way his eyes glimmer against the sunlight and reflect the bright pink off the setting sun
While the birds circle their own world, playing their concerto
Oblivious of the part they are playing in my love song

His hands shielding himself from the harshness the weather has exposed
Or maybe from my burning gaze attempting to save something as precious as the poets muse

Because I know as soon as I look away it will be gone
And I will be left with a vaporous trail of sweet nothings
And melt into a pool of stupidity
From where one certainly couldn’t conjure up a poem

So I must refrain and remain content letting the poem breeze through me and releasing it back into the atmosphere
Because there is no time to write what I see

Your hands, layed flat like a beautiful plane
Against the curvature of your face
As the sun recedes into the background
And takes with it, your light.

Birthday Wishes

It’s your birthday and there I have you
Sitting on my bed as you rest your head on your motorcycle helmet

I’ve done myself up
Covered up the sadness and knowing
And I try to breathe
You don’t notice and again, I fish for the compliments

It’s times like these that you make me feel five
Dressing up in mom’s high heels and smearing that bright red lipstick
Attempting, desperately, to be taken seriously

You’re wearing that bandana that I hate and we’ve both at this point gotten very good at our roles
But this time you’re uncertain, you don’t know where were going, and for once I have the power.
I’ve been dangling it over you for days
Rejoicing in how it feels
But as you sit in my bed now it feels awkward

You’re favorite word…

I walk you over to get a massage and I play the role of good girlfriend as best I can
Don’t worry; I’ve taken notes all my life
Be agreeable
Always be there, even if he isn’t
Always answer that phone
For heavens sake don’t argue

Is that good?
Stick your cock wherever you want

And so I proceeded.
I wined and dined you and prayed that this would be enough
To cover up the fact that earlier that evening you wouldn’t even take my clothes off
To cover up the fact that earlier that evening we stopped playing our roles
And simply became them.