The Words

The words filled up the spaces between our bodies,

typewritten sentences with indecent punctuation.

The places where my mouth met your skin

read like the pages of a well-thumbed paperback,

the kind you keep around to be reread for old time’s sake.

You were new to me,

but we fit together

like we’d been there before.

I’ll write to you

to preserve a connection I never expected.

It’s the words that will hold you to me

over distances and time.

Final

When I pulled my arms from around you for the final time

I noticed a tiny burn mark on the back of my left hand,

a small spot of shine like a drop of glue below my second knuckle.

I had no idea how it got there

and no memory of placing my skin against something hot enough

to leave a scar.

Of all the things I failed to notice while you were around

this seemed an odd one to come into clear focus

as you walked to your car, packed full with your possessions,

and drove away from this city

and from me.

You said you meant to make me smile, not cry,

but seeing you ready to go

might’ve made it harder

to have you gone.

a good cry

my movie star tears

are no match for

your sideways smile.

Love Story

To wake up on a bright Sunday morning

and find old-fashioned poetry

waiting for you

written by your lover,

passed over the miles between you,

feels like the kind of great love story

they don’t write anymore.

Fit

You fit inside me like you were built for me

Chiseled from stone, carved from wood

Given life and warmth

and communion with my cunt.

Killing You

I realize your loyalties are shattered,

pieces of your longing pointing every which way

yearning for a kind reflection,

while I’ve disguised my allegiances,

swept them under a canopy bed with too many pillows,

all of them filled with down.

*

Hurt is a feature of our connection.

It’s how we bond, what we write,

The thing we try to banish by pressing our bodies together.

It’s natural that eventually

we’d hurt each other.

*

I didn’t mean to push those shining splinters

into the thin skin at your wrists,

but no matter my intentions

it would be stupid of you to turn to me for nursing.

I understand that.  I do.

*

But I will brush my lips over your scars,

whisper regrets into your wounds.

At first you might mistake it for conscience

but when it carries on,

when it doesn’t stop, even when you expect it to,

you’ll start to accept it

as love.

Fight

You say you’d let me go

The minute my love leaned away from you.

You wouldn’t put up a fuss.

You’d give up your best friend

To avoid the ache of losing me

To someone else.

*

I can’t say the same.

*

I would fight for you.

I’d amend my demonstrations

Until you realized that I am the best

At loving you.

*

If you were no longer certain of my place

I’d show you where I belong

Using words, fingers, moisture, my wanting mouth.

*

There’s no way I’d give you up

Without a fight.

What I Should’ve Said

Yes, I had a life before you

I had relationships

I had lovers

*

I wrote them poems

and dirty emails

*

You probably wouldn’t like them

if you read them

but that would be natural

and nothing to worry about.