Yours was the only bright light that made pupils not constrict, but dilate— as if they knew they needed to drink in as much of you as possible.
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my book is officially in review and should be available for purchase on Amazon within 72 hours ❤
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Sober living: it is about learning all the secret ways that exist to get drunk that they don’t tell you about. Love letters with a sweetheart: there is no greater wine. Breaths timed with the sea’s lazy waves: what intoxication. Dancing without a care, not a drop of alcohol in the veins: it’s a form of nakedness, nothing more liberating. Spirits, spirits, spirits: they are everywhere.
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you mustn’t ever love
something without claws,
you mustn’t ever love
what cannot bite.
a hand that feeds
should be ready
to bleed.
there’s no such thing
as love
that draws no blood.
only shut mouths
do not bite —
only in silence
are edges smoothed.
honesty: it is serrated.
love too.
there is no other way.
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Silence, the blank canvas upon which the noise of the universe is painted.
The incessant chatter of a restless mind: perhaps a fluttering bird escaping the ground’s grim realities. Silence, it is presence, even with the ache.
Only when I was connected with myself could I truly connect with another. I couldn’t connect with anyone without first connecting with myself.
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so simple.
your kiss is a needle:
my mind is a bubble,
inflated. inflated.
inflated
with nonsense, fodder.
pop:
silence.
bliss.
stole the air right out of me.
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there are some who have spent so long snuffing their own flame, resigning themselves to a life spent in the dark, that your light might burn their eyes. they’d hiss at you: pull the shutters, pull the shutters.
never. never.
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you branded the inside of my heart
can’t shake the feeling
that anyone I let in
sees you there.
your initials scarred,
emblazoned
on my chest.
you softened my heart,
then shaped the clay
with your hands.
into the crucible:
our flame scorched me into ceramic.
then,
you dropped me.
still am i here,
bloodied knees,
picking up the scattered pieces
of myself.
i wear you:
lesions on the brain,
burns on the heart,
scars on my knees.
i wear you.
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lips like razors
tease my neck:
my head tilts back.
from the moment
my eyes first met yours,
i knew i’d bleed for you.
your eyes
pierced me plenty,
stripped bare
in your gaze.
but you hide
behind the drawn curtains
of your soul’s windows.
unreadable.
unreachable.
how unfair.
THE CLOSET MYSTIC 