Sunday, April 18, 2004

i talk to a boy
who's lost the love of his life
and i think of what it would
feel like
to lose mine
she is in my bones
i think i would be only
a quarter me
if she was gone
and i look at the little things
that hang on my wall
voltaire, shakespeare, emerson
two baby pictures of me smiling
in all my toddling glory
a valentines day card from two years ago
that reads
let the simplest things just carry you away
love mom
and a blue and white card
announcing the birth
of a little baby boy
who was born too small
and should have been mine
and it's a wall full of
love
and hope
and memories
and sometimes it brings tears
but mostly
it keeps me going


Monday, April 05, 2004

i'm sitting here
listening to the favorite song
of a crazy girl
who wants to be locked in an asylum
because it's safer there
and reading words
a man wrote
a man who doesn't even know me
and he's nailing my ass to the wall
every fucking word
is like a goddamn razor
that cuts through the thick skin
i've worked so hard
and for so many years to develop
what the fuck man
he's not supposed to call me out
like this
i do the seeing through
i call the bullshit
not you
i cry
but not because it hurts
but because now i know
this is what it feels like
to be totally exposed
totally fucking naked
and beautiful

Saturday, April 03, 2004

I'm not going to tell the story the way it happened. I'm going to tell it the way I remember it.

He was trying out his wings in so many different ways. In a crowded room full of people he looked at me knowingly and in a low voice said, "Take your panties off right now." He didn't even blink an eye. A touch of adrenaline rushed through my body, head to toe. And I proceeded with the only thing I knew how to do- oblige him.

Later that evening he took inventory with his gaze of every inch of the white skin, soft curves, the delicate overlay of the sheer lilac lace against the anticipatory energy that was contained in the nakedness below as I lay on the bed alone. Waiting for him.

He took his place beside me and slowly and ever so lightly traced every inch of me with his fingertips from my toes up to the long strands of my hair. Then he put his lips to mine. And his tongue. And I lost myself. His breath on my lips brought tears to my eyes. Everything in me wanted to completely immerse my being into his, to completely obliterate the boundaries created by skin and bone and actually be inside of him and combine my passion with his and savor the commencing spontaneous combustion.

I invited him in and he pushed his whole self into me. And then pushed further. And even a bit more. Legs and arms desperately clinging and encircling his body, I held on for dear life, feeling that my last shred of separateness was stretched to the breaking point. And in one quivering breath, I let go. And I became part of him.

And for the next hour I saw what it looked like to love me. And to want me. And I came crashing back into myself in one spiraling fireball of ecstasy.

And we lay together, naked and satisfied, laughing at the lanky British boys who squeal like girls and have mangled teeth and who remind me of Queen.