i am Your Trash

What I yearn for is the word “beautiful” to pass through your lips to describe me. 

It used to happen so easily. 

But now it is lost in the vagueness of forgotten inclinations and shuttered emotions. 

Barriers brought on by a culture that allows  no leniency for failed attempts. 

Feeling half a man, you refuse to see me as a whole woman. 

I am just a broken piece of glass. Bad luck and burdensome. 

You bury me in the trash and I am forgotten. 

-S 2017

What I see in you, I wish you saw in me

I struggle to find a place with you
Unsure of the appropriate physical proximity of our feelings.
I tug on your sleeve and try to find your lips
You push me headfirst into your chest, barely holding me…

I breathe in your scent
Intoxicated by its beauty.

I make another attempt at intimate contact
You pull me toward you but stifle my effort

For now, all I have is the sweet scented air of your body.
The warmth of your arms wrapped around me, holding us back from an emotional bond.

I desperately want to connect myselfwithyou,
To feel your warmth envelope every part of me.
To hold your face close to mine and gently trace it with my fingertips.

In my eyes, you are perfectly flawed.
Elegant and handsome; struggling to find your way in a clumsy brilliance that I admire.

I only wish that your heart felt the same.

       

                                                        –  S. (2017)

Chaos is Your Touch

In a messy array of awkward struggles

                     I am tanygloedu in

All
Soclose

So

                                                                                 At

                              Distant.

Once.

– S (2016)

(mis) Representations of Reality

“Don’t worry,” you told me, “it will be fine.”

My mind races to all the ways it won’t be fine.  All the catastrophic (mis?)representations of events that will unfold in twenty odd days run amuck.

Anxious firings of electrical messengers dancing chaotically:

My brain screams, “It will not be fine!”

My hands type, “okay.”

-S. (2016)

To the Personified Sun

When i forget to breathe

the sun reminds me to fill my lungs.

In the moment that grayscale takes over,

 the sun projects brilliant colors across my eyes.

In the midst of the race, my legs weak from running on empty,

the sun carries me to the finish line.

Simple reminders of the blood in my veins-

the sun fills my heart and it regains it’s pulse.

 

 

My soul drained from me,

My world non-existent.

When I forget that I am alive—

this sun,

my sun

reminds me that i exist.

-S. 2016