ten rubbery fingertips
The ins and outs of circumference;
lime light, fistfight
vocalization of your edacious attitudes (and all of that)
My shape is hourglass
The naked denotation of regret
(I would love to see you naked) and
(I would love to see you dead) but
an Indian summer is coming
and I walked through a door today for the last time;
smelled the fresh (tomorrow is April) air
and took each step one at a time
noticing when a white van passed me in the parking lot;
walk around the block when it gets dark just to smell the salt in the air.
and ins of sainthood - it must be nice to never question yourself.
Know - that what you do is right
before you do it
instead of just waiting for the fallout.
I wrote "thanks" on a piece of paper in blue ink
and burned it; I would never say it straight to your face
but I meant it
when I wrote it.
The above and below -
shallow in all directions
wade though favoritism and nepotism and throw my head up when I hit air -
downward spiral of (something that I've never been able to name)
all the same - we love you,
we'll miss you
we appreciate you - but in the end we don't want you.
You say slut like it's a joke,
just another stereotype,
anatomy of my openings being too overused -
I guess I've had a lot of soulmates in my life,
when his hand's
down on me
I learned not to cry out
but take it like a woman
with no other choices.
Don't drink the water here;
soaking up the lines on this over used carpet
it stings on the way down
but I will never forget the shape of that boy
coiled like rope, twisted in the depths of his plié
his back to me, and the music dancing from wall to wall.
I can't fall - I won't fall;
pick up the waning edges of my boundaries
and wax like a wolf at the window -
we play this game
you and I
of flotsam and jetsam
where I run away but always come back
but when you leave
you're lost for good.