The Lipstick

I’m aware and a wolf—

You indirectly told me to avoid you

because “we can’t keep doing this.”

I looked back and there were hills of salt,

and enough sand, to call the east coast.

It has been home, and still can be.

I spent enough intimate time with you

to know I’m here for more than sex.

Because it isn’t that great to call home yet—

and I’m aging giving myself like this.

Wearing a matte lipstick called “Sheep’s Blood.”

I can continue this masquerade, but I miss myself.

I haven’t had a decent meal or hug in nights.

So, I’m different tonight and tomorrow too.

I’m too comfortable with the lowness

and avoiding spaces I called “home” and “mine.”

But you can visit, wearing a new finesse or wool—

they don’t ask what’s underneath, regardless of the lowness and howls.

• 9 Sep 2018
• 6

Ghosting and Dating Them

“Sex with me is like sticking your fist

in a jar of honey and pulling it out.”

I tell myself, whether I believe it—

that the memories, I stopped by smoking

more, are doing nothing for me.

And still, I grow feelings for you.

And if we are sharing the truth,

I can’t stand the thought of you sharing yourself

with someone other than me.

It just kills me, endlessly.

Bound to answer without hesitation

and ready to start over, without any reservations.

Pacify the time tonight,

just to please me— and that’s alright.

I don’t know if what you do and how you feel

is real, or just for tonight—

but I’ve been so low, it simply feels nice.

So I don’t care, at least for now.

I’m not concerned with feeling lonely

because the attention is warm,

and you’ve sadly always been enough.

Every day, and night— with you.

I lose my mind knowing and guessing

who’s searching for more and favorites

on your body and soul—

That’s my jar of honey.

I don’t know how I messed this up,

or a good thing, again—

but give me a chance amongst

my insecurities, whether restless or hesitate.

• 29 Jul 2018
• 7

Dating Him

No matter what I do—

I tell myself whether wearing my cool,

high after my third blunt or pressed I don’t

have the love I think I deserve;

I’m struggling to not act a fool.

I’m still falling for you and attempting

to let you go, at the same time.

Little by little, endlessly and restlessly,

thoughts of anyone attempting

to love on you frustrates me,

but I have to let you, and it, be.

I don’t know if what you felt for me was real

or if my insecurities, again, have

saturated another good thing.

It’s a lie— and you should know,

I am still falling for you.

No matter what I do—

I tell myself, I’m a priority and not a choice.

I’m here because I am, and that’s something special.

Have your fun but make time for me;

but I act a fool because I’m still waiting

to feel special, and a priority.

And it kills me, to know this “could have been”

and it usually goes, or ends, as such.

Little by little, moving away from how you made me feel,

I’ll try not to act on how I feel for you.

I may not have you anymore—

but at least the insecurities are these there.

• 29 Jul 2018
• 22

Dating in the Summer

Summer heat, catching layovers and

my insecurities that push you away.

There’s always an excuse for “this and that”

and why I haven’t gotten over them.

I get high to shut up, and away, the things

I kept inside and never said.

And if you want the truth,

I’m still falling for you.

And silly of me, to think that you’d

be thinking of me, too.

Days and nights away and there’s no

touching or attention, so I’m restless.

So I act a fool, playing the past few weeks

over and over, because the re-runs of

why I can’t move past some gestures,

and “I can’t make it” are trivial.

I’m sorry I take it all on you

and make no excuse, or have explained why.

If you still want the truth—

I’m still falling for you.

Restlessly, pushing you away because

I don’t know if it’s real, or another finesse.

So again, let’s get high to just enjoy the moment,

because I’m struggling with speaking the truth, or “this and that—“ around you.

• 29 Jul 2018
• 4

My Favorite Song

“I’ve had enough, I’ve had enough—“

I want your attention tonight and today.

I’m beyond the zone of being friends,

I don’t care where this, or us, ends.

You on top or the way our eyes lock;

your favorite song and why I haven’t said “Stop—“

Why the hell did this take this long?

And the same songs playing all night long.

“I love the way you taste”

whether real, temporary or fake—

and how your hips have a constant bass.

I love how you make me feel safe.

Teasing and steady— hot, ebony and ready,

I want your attention, all day and night.

I don’t care where this or us ends;

I’m tired of the limits of simply being friends.

Too deep in, no regrets at all—

I want it all, whether at my lowest or on top.

“Why did this take so long—”

plays in my head, like my favorite song.

• 23 Jul 2018
• 9

The Summer

I found a dull knife in the summer,

hiding out in Georgia, licking my wounds.

Making love to a man just to be in his arms,

and telling myself I’m beautiful.

I need to take my time to show you

pieces of me, that illustrate the bigger picture.

You’ll never take me serious without

the footnotes, and we both know this.

You don’t have to understand or get me,

You don’t have to laugh at all my references.

You can smoke all my good weed and chase

my lasting insecurities and stresses with your smile.

Let’s make love and forget I’m too anxious

to talk about the obvious, and how I’m scratching and surviving.

Scamming my way into hearts to feel alive and loved.

I don’t need just anyone— I need you.

Licking my wounds, reserving my references,

and losing more weight than patience.

I know how I feel is too deep but my pussy isn’t—

and you love playing, and getting lost, in my forest.

You can and have always—

I don’t know if watching the sun fall and rise in

the striped shadows of the blinds, in your room, is romantic.

But I’m here for it, and you—

To relax in your arms is another level of seriousness.

I want you, and this, for our kind of forever.

I can take you, and every season you are, seriously.

You have whatever is mine and all that I reserve,

for you and have always—

• 26 Jun 2018
• 56

Yours and Mine

I had to travel aboard and find a new man

to show you I’m not interested in dick,

but ready to move on and on top of someone new.

I was never stable, with you, but finessed my way

into a heart with “Don’t EVER Disturb” on front.

Everything that belonged to you,

I gave for moments, similar to ours,

of something temporary and satisfying.

Don’t ask me why—

You hide everything but your body,

ready to give it to me, like everyone else before.

Riding your lap and face until I can’t remember

why I here, again— or coming over with a packed bag.

How does it feel, knowing my pussy gets

wet for someone outside of you?

I know I’ve been losing weight,

but my thighs are still the same—

My nipples never lie when I’m ready—

I feel like sticking your fist in a jar of honey

and pulling it out, and licking it.

You can’t stop it from oozing out the corners

of your mouth, and want it all over your face.

I don’t think you understand—

anyone could have me but you have an invitation

to my ankles between your neck.

How would you like it if someone enjoyed that?

So, don’t ask me why— don’t ever disturb or ask me why—

“What’s mine is mine” so sharing is not permitted.

I don’t think you understand—

Dragging my tongue across your waist

or a layover flight to return home,

I’m coming over, and home,

to give you more than what’s yours, and mine.

• 26 Jun 2018
• 5

Save Me

He came out of the bathroom, with his glasses on,

and I knew he was my Clark Kent.

Tying my legs by his ears with purple rope,

and supporting me through my lowness.

I lied— I’ve been getting fucking out of my mind

and found the best thing since a 3.5 for $30.

I’m tired of smoking and loving you from a distance;

so, he came and showed what reciprocity truly is.

I owe you more than orgasms that remind

you of freedom and what this could be.

They all wang to get lost in the forest

but can’t afford the excuse of where they have been.

“Can’t nobody make me feel this way”

and shit like, “I’m all in for this and you.”

Shit you want to hear when you’re fucking

but it’s said either before or after.

I thought you were the best thing I found but

someone made me feel like gold with my clothes on.

Their words and intentions felt like silk

and I was suddenly smitten, and taken.

You don’t know what peace feels like until

they come around and the world dissolves.

Not a team player but a team member—

not out here rehearsing plays or lines.

I don’t know what the hell I was doing with you

masquerading as Harlequin, chilling with the villains.

Clark Kent came out the bathroom

and fucked the hell out of me, and still does.

• 26 Jun 2018
• 55

Young and Hopeless

I’m tired of telling you how I feel,

tonight I’ll show you, if it feels right.

“I believe and know” are not enough—

I need you to feel this, too.

It does not have a name, nor needs one;

you can’t compare but can take it from here.

You have things no one will ever know,

and small, small secrets, and glimpses,

of a Forrest no one has seen.

And I’m tired of explaining what you “don’t need—“

I can give you all that you want, for tonight.

I take it a day at a time with you,

so I can only promise tonight and tomorrow morning.

I know you’ve entertained better game,

but I feel entitled after fighting for you so long.

I can’t promise a forever nor dream of one,

just moments like this with you are so satisfying.

You don’t have to come over

or talk about your feelings, tonight.

I just want what I haven’t touched

or kisses in months, afraid of what I felt.

Whatever you see and keep—

I can take you and it from here.

• 30 Apr 2018
• 9

Shoulder Kisses

I’ve been conscious to the rules

and how I treat others, when I’m finally sober.

I tried to leave but, instead, I stayed just to plead.

I don’t need but I want her—

not just anybody, but a somebody to me.

To say I just left, is wrong—

I crept and lurked, stayed afar and continued

to pray for her, like I saw her yesterday.

The last time I did, I kept it all inside

and wondered why I exploded,

when some oblivious, white woman triggered me.

I gave you my body first before I swallowed

the words, I used to get through all my days.

I tried to leave— I tried to quit and retreat.

But her words and tone chased me around

the corners, and silence, of my own overpriced apartment.

I just don’t have it in me to fight for her anymore.

I pray you’re still breathing and alive.

Whatever you’re doing to survive and stay alive,

let it out and stop carrying that dead weight and wood.

Sink into the feelings that comfort you

and get you through this, too.

Do what gets you through until either of us leaves.

• 30 Apr 2018
• 5

My Needs and Knees

I don’t know how to tell you I need to see you.

I’ve auditioned while dancing, courting other women,

and buying dreams you sell me; 

while sitting on my couch and pushing you away.

Can I give you all of me—

Because your girl is no threat to me.

You ain’t mine but I act like it.

Not official or prime time but I’m always on time,

and there when you call.

Missing you, from a distance, is harder

than pretending to be alright with you—

so the current distance and silence is tolerable.

I wanted more inside jokes, and stealing kisses from me.

I don’t know how to ask about your day

and what you think is new, without nagging.

Fucking someone new won’t wipe away

what I feel nor satisfy it, yet.

You don’t answer questions about me

so I don’t care to know who’s yours, at the moment.

I’m not moving with the same shame and kindness—

“You aren’t even mine but I act like it.”

I can’t wait to see you but have to hide it—

to enjoy our time together, and not project too much.

I know I’m a lot to handle

but I want all of what all of the truth first.

I don’t or know if you’re pushing others away, too,

and would it even matter—

I stick away, for reasons unbeknownst to me—

because missing you from a distance is harder.

• 30 Apr 2018
• 13

Serious

I flew out to Texas and then Europe,

I know what I need and what I deserve.

I don’t have to miss or tell you;

I don’t have to be there nor listen—

Whatever you thought this was

is a conclusion you arrived to, alone.

Am I out of line, for expecting you to know

I have serious feelings for you?

How I spent the best part of my day,

what maintains the smile you gave

and how you compliment the joy,

in my life, is what I want to share with you.

But withholding details about who and why

you flew domestic and foreign, with the past,

is the last of what I expect from a

holiday about an adopted home.

How many questions, and about what,

do I need to ask to know everything—

It’s strips the confidence of saying I know you,

when I truly don’t and believed I did.

Sarcasm, orgasms, and hesitations touch you

even across the room and at a table.

You make common interactions awkward;

dinner feels like a firing squad because

if the waitress ask about the check,

it’ll reflect what we are or have been.

I want to share more than the day

and feelings we hide, from one another.

I’m done with being dishonest with myself,

and you— I do have serious feelings for.

• 30 Apr 2018
• 5

Something is Wrong

“Are you not tired of this—“

Finding your groove and way to fake your way

out of this, again, because giving her body

is easier than unpacking sentences like,

“I thought I told you everything.”

Settling for orgasms simply to know it was mutual,

and for more than a moment.

It’s just another body and you know what to do;

whether you accept it, it’s your mess, too.

“I fought her, them and the world for her heart—”

I’ve got an itch and she’s just the right one.

I’ve never been entertained with safe—

and loud was always weak and hyper visible.

I just wanted a change but fucked a old lover instead.

I tore the rest of the steel wool from my chest

and hollowed out the rest—

I’m sure I beat the Lupus, weed and worries.

So, I don’t want to know how well you’re doing now—

Trying never became old or desperate;

and withholding the truth is still lying to me.

Whether for a moment or for years,

ripping a steel wool heart out or setting it on fire—

I have to stop myself fighting for you, and fight for myself.

• 30 Apr 2018
• 22