never knew what it meant
to live
till i met the one for whom
i would die
how funny.
Category: Uncategorized
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the touch of fate
is a strange thing:
she grazes your lover
with the tip of her finger
then suddenly:
she is sand
through your arms,
dust in the wind.
yet your lover’s ivy
does not leave too–
no, it sprawls
through the chambers
of your heart and mind
the ones you thought
were well and truly locked.
love, love, love:
its illusion is this:
seeing eternity,
where your love
is a heart drawn,
initials enclosed,
by the sea shore
with your fingertip
in the sand.
One wave:
all it takes.
but i will fall
for this ruse
every time.
i will fall
eagerly.
yea.
i will fall.
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i’ve longed for so long,
i yearn to not yearn.
what is love:
does it need
to be earned?
again i ask:
when will it be
my turn?
…
Those old thoughts
came knocking on my door tonight.
Unwelcome houseguests.
They checked every window,
They checked my back door.
I don’t know if I locked up well enough.
I don’t think they entered,
but I heard them.
They shouted, I heard them.
From outside, banging on the door
I put all my weight against the door
praying they wouldn’t enter.
They didn’t, they didn’t,
but by God,
I almost let them in.
By God,
they almost
got in my head.
A trembling hand,
reached—
I don’t think faith
is a good feeling.
No, sometimes it’s your only option,
there’s a certain desperation in faith
a certain desperation-like taste.
sometimes faith
has nothing to do with the future.
Sometimes, faith has
everything
to do with the past.
I’ve been here before.
I made it out before.
They can stay at the door.
My time will come,
of that, I’m sure.
no, faith,
like love,
it is a choice.
sometimes
a hard one.
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Your face, my chest. Your eyes closed, inhaling like I’m the final thing you’ll ever smell. Pretending you’re asleep, knowing you’re savoring this moment. Is it pathetic that I still imagine your face?
Why do I yearn so intensely for love? I feel as if this is the sole desire I have, every other desire I’ve ever experienced has been secondary, or a means to the end of that higher and truer desire, the desire to love. I want to see the love swelling in someone’s eyes, I want your face to light up when I walk in the room; instead, I feel cast into shadow. Can someone’s hand reach in here, pull me out?
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What is it?
It’s the same old story:
longing, and yearning.
I want someone’s breath tracing my collarbone,
I want to be the reason someone feels safe.
Something human.
That’s all.
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these love poems
make me a fool—
supposedly.
you, the scientist
you don a white coat
but that laboratory:
isn’t it cold?
you,
your controls—
me,
no choice
but to let go.
who is the fool?
this love of ours—
its flame
burns textbooks.
i’ll set fire to every library.
for without this love:
there’s no knowing.
yeah, without this love
i know nothing.
no love, no truth—
know love, know truth.
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You caught me staring
lost in your eyes—
you asked me what I was doing.
“Stargazing”—
it was all I could muster.
It’s like you plucked the stars from the heavens,
and put them in your eyes:
what is this magic you do?
You are the night sky.
It’s like you stole the Sun,
and put it in your heart:
what is this magic of yours?
Blazing. You bring me to life.
It’s like you’re the universe,
You draw me into orbit—
What a wonderful dance this is.
You tell me,
“I want to see the world”—
but I already do.
We could travel the globe,
There’s nothing worth seeing
if it’s not with you.
Stargazing,
one of our favorite pastimes.
But honey, that night sky
has nothing
on your eyes.
Brilliant. You bring me alive.
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this flower bloomed
in the shittiest of pastures
but this flower bloomed
yeah, this flower bloomed.
this flower bloomed
by the family tree
obscuring the Sun
leaving near none
for that flower,
that flower, me—
but this flower bloomed.
yeah, this flower bloomed.
this flower bloomed,
home to a caterpillar,
its hammock cocoon—
and this flower bloomed,
yeah,
that butterfly flew.
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nonchalance:
a prison.
nonchalance:
the schism,
between passion
& living.
chalance,
an affirmation:
you have a heart,
it’s beating.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 