You’ve stumbled into my collection of poems, short stories, rants and random thoughts on life and love.
Pull up a chair. Sit. Stay. Chat.
I won’t bite. Promise.
Let me hold you, wipe your tears
and press your heart close to mine.
Let me tell you it’ll be okay
even if it’s a lie.
Let me stop this storm from comin’,
or at least shelter you.
Let me soften the swift destruction
of the only peace you knew.
If I could cry your tears for you
I’d create another ocean.
If I could scream your screams for you
I’d tear the skies wide open.
If I could shatter into enough pieces
so that you wouldn’t have to
I’d outnumber this planet’s grains of sand
and the stars in the sky, too.
Let me mend your heartbreak,
be the haven where you rest.
Let me spend my life rebuilding
your broken, shattered nest.
Or, if I can’t do any of these things,
or you think I can’t understand,
At least let me sit by your side
and quietly hold your hand.
How long did I long to please you?
But my wounds were never your blame.
It was the sins of the mother
on the mother
on the mother
’til the daughter became the slave.
How many days did I wake without you?
To a home devoid of care.
No arms to welcome me
No ears to hear me
No signs you had ever been there.
How long did you struggle with hating me?
For binding you to the man who
Forced upon you a child
The fetus inside
Who survived past the drugs you consumed.
How long will I live to mourn you?
And the life you and I’ll never see.
You hearing my fears
You sharing my tears
Meeting the woman I’m meant to be.
When did I grow up without you?
I’m leaving you behind, I know.
But your name is not mine
My heart is divine
And the light in my eyes is my own.
Tell us what you see, they said …
These two men. Gorgeous. Sitting on my couch.
Talented beyond compare. Both of them
Asking to be seen through my eyes.
Tell us the truth, they said.
What do you see in me?
You, I said to one …
I could look into those eyes for hours and days.
I could kiss every line of your body, every crease of your muscled limbs.
I could break my heart over your beauty, the stunning debonair of your face.
I could wrap myself around you and cling to you,
and nights and nights with you, lose myself in you
until I shattered in your embrace.
He laughed, blushing.
And that smile, I said …
Holds secrets in its dimples I’m desperate to learn.
I want to sit on the swings with you.
I want to play in the sand with you.
I want to run and laugh under the sun until all we can do
Is collapse into one another’s arms.
And then I’d want to do it again with you.
He smiled, his eyes sweet, and said …
(in that rich, polished accent)
And that voice, I said …
I could listen to it every night,
every night, over and over,
telling me tales,
speaking sweet syllables of poetic sorcery.
I could drown in the luscious sound of you
And it would be a good and joyous death.
He said, as his dimples shined …
You really are a poet.
Sexy, that one
I thought to myself.
Now you, I said to the other …
He looked down, away, thinking, perhaps,
Himself not so handsome as the first.
I gulped my bourbon while he sipped his.
You, I said to the other …
I could lay beside you night after night,
Talking, giggling, listening to all your secrets,
All your thoughts, every hope and every dream.
I could lay beside you and explore your skin
With my hands,
First with just my fingertips,
Then my palms,
Then the whole of my hands,
both of them,
each of them,
one after the other,
night after blissful, endless night.
You, I said …
I could look into your eyes
And seek out every story that made them weep,
Every glimmer that sparked each laugh.
I could touch your lips and listen to every word they’ve been afraid to speak all your life,
Until you met me.
I could hold your hand through every fearful moment
And jump with joy in every extraordinary time.
I could watch the spotlight grow over you,
and stand beside you to
encourage you through all the hard,
laugh with you to fight the pain,
hold you up through all the exhaustion and all the shame.
You, I said …
You I could spend so many of my days with,
So many of my nights with,
So much of my life with.
You, I could love.
A tear slipped past his mouth as a smile curled his lips.
You, he said …
I already do.
My poetry returned home,
lifted my heart higher,
lit my prose afire.
I’d forgotten I am a writer.