Nothing as Stupid as a Love Poem

09/15/12
-for my version of the scientist

This is a fantasy.

Kiss me, teeth scraping
along the curve of my lips,
blood beating deep
within my ears, flush
staining out across my cheeks
as I fist my fingers through
your hair
and pull you to me.
Grind me, hips locked together,
limbs sprawled out across the bed,
breath heaving as I claw my body open
in an attempt to reach you.
Taste me, tongue kissed behind my ear,
the sweat of your skin imprinted
along the fabric on my shirt,
chest heaving,
heart strangled as I slowly allow
you to start stripping me bare.

I need you to fill me, break
me down, bones locked to
the mattress,
heart slowing from your weight
stretched along me.

This is a fantasy.
Because when I wake,
you're no where closer to being
in my arms.

tracing these moments

trace my fingers
over the bank of your ribs,
body carved open
along the green of the grass,
teeth smiling white
against the blue of the sky.
i need to swallow you down
this summer, your breath
hot in my ear, your hands
trailing down the length of my back
as i let myself fall open
into you, eyes wild,
skin burning
as we trace these moments
around the lake.

Learned to Hate

You’ve learned to hate,

starting with the slow

painful quick growing

of your skin,

stretching a betrayal all across your body,

because you’re no longer a child.

You’ve learned to hate

this cage you’ll never be rid of,

for it’s too big,

too fat, too wide,

not skinny enough to swallow your soul whole

and eat you through from

the inside.

You’ve learned to hate

this blood that’s always flowing

when you least need it,

for in the eyes of anyone else

to you it says you’re dirty,

you’re sinful

now that you’ve split

the essence of life upon the floor

and devoured the fruit of heaven,

because you know

you can never go back.

Red

Red lips that are not so red.

You smile

with mock sincerity etched upon your face.

You’re laughing at me.

I’d hear whispers late at night, of how

you rip peoples’ hearts out

and leave them to fester in the open air,

blood spilling out,

dying red to black,

sticking, causing a permanent wound,

just like the one you left on me.

Red lips that are not so red.

You pout,

creating the unfair urge to protect, yet

you’re cutting into me.

I’d watch you paint, never sleeping,

creating false visions

and twisted pictures of reality,

paint smeared across the canvas,

staining white with red,

mixing a permanent brand,

just like the one you left on me.

Red lips that are not so red.

You frown

with distain marked upon your brow.

You’re looking down on me.

I’d listen to you criticize and mock

my every move and reaction to you,

launching a frontal attack with words,

piercing deep within my cells,

clouding back a layer of rage,

just like the one you left on me.

Red lips that are not so red.

You laugh,

knowing my limitations and boundaries.

You’re playing with me.

I’d hear your voice with taunting tones,

drawing me in circles,

wearing me down because you know

I can’t resist you,

dark red on skin, you lips on mine,

a branding of ownership by lipstick,

just like the one you left on…

him.

Red lips that are not so red,

sealed tightly against what

I want to hear.

Open

My body is open,
curved wide along the pieces
of my spine,
heart failing as the blood
pulses weakly through my veins
until I'm left with nothing
but the faint beat of my heart
a dull echo in my skull.
I'll ask you to fill me,
hands fluttering along the sides of my ribs,
fingers tracing the ache of my lungs,
the strips of my skin blood ribbons
trailing down my clothes
as I wait to receive your love
and end the emptiness
inside me.

Bald Moon

You know I dream of a
bald moon,
pale in the remnants of a sickness
floating on the surface of the skin,
frothing within the veins
and piling high behind my eyelids.
I'll pool in the blood,
mark 'cross the darkness
as I step forwards across the hollow bridge
while the soft
sick sounds of reality snapping
echo around my flesh and
through the hollow curves of my bones until
I'm dying
again and again
within the sheets of a murder,
all white,
all damned,
slowly smoked apart and served
upon glass dished with the semblance of
your screams.

You know I wish that this
was over.

That Type of Love

That type of love,
marked black across the lines
of my skin rubbed raw
at the wrists and beating
painfully at the edge of my heart
as I lean forward
to fall.
I need to feel your skin on mine,
the crush of your fingers
in my hair, the tilt of my head
falling backwards
as I let go, allowing you
to be my only support
keeping me aloft with
the pull of those buttons,
the tear of my skin beneath
your teeth, my breath caught
in a ragged gasp fumbling
at the corners of my lips,
your name the last echo
before I allow myself
the gratification of
the end.

Exempt

I am exempt from you,
disillusioned along the lines of your skin
as we trace, fumble together
in the dark, a silver shadow
stretched thinly over the body of the couch.
You speak in rhythm
the roll of my name sliding down your tongue
as you attempt to squeeze me down
between the bite of your lips,
envisioned in the fantasy in which
I never leave.
But in the brief light of the dawn
that shutters through the crack between the curtains,
there's not enough warmth to hide
the empty presence of my body
locked in the fading arc
of your arms.

The Lines of this Moment

I breathe beyond the shallows
of the deep, my arms open wide
to catch the current
passing through my skin,
traveling along the lines, creases,
veins, pumps and gears of my body
as it slowly winds forward
into the reef,
the incredible light
along the lines of this moment
a faint trace along my shoulders,
your breath a bubble against my lips,
the split cry of this second
a burst behind my ears
as I dive forward into the calm
of the water,
and then...
nothing.

The Lines of Your Body

04/11/12
For S.

I like the lines of your body,
the stretch of your smile echoed
in the light of your eyes,
the easy-going nature in which you move,
the curves of your skin a shadow
beneath the lines of your clothes,
and I find myself wondering
what it would be like
to touch you,
tangle my fingers in your hair,
kiss you and not let go,
the weight of your pulse a steady beat
against mine and attempt
to climb into you in order to find
a name for these feelings
that I've been afraid of for the longest time.