Bb

“Benson”
Her first glance your way.
Long, dirty blonde hair
Shrugging of her shoulders
As she exhales hookah smoke
And passes to you.

“Balcony”
Where her hand slides on top of yours.
Brisk winter air becomes silent
In this moment
Next to her warm body.

“Brambles”
Your drunken first kiss with her
Under trees growing
Like steady
Wind swaying 
Like a heartbeat you couldn’t keep
Up with.

“Bunk bed”
Where I sit
Next to you
Listening
About this dream girl
This dream night
My heart beating
Angry, sad, jealous
Little beats.

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Coffee Shop

Her slight silhouette fits neatly
In the door frame:
Winter sunshine behind her
Bundled up body.
My heart beats shakily
In a chest she once laid
Her head on
As she kissed and caressed
All my scars
And all my hopes and dreams
Fluttering around inside of me.
Now, my hand shakily waves
To announce, “Here I am.
The womyn you left
When the bruises got too big,
The wounds reopening every night.
Here I am.”
I’m nervous and I’m angry at her.
I needed her then.
Tears in my eyes and a forced smile
On my warm-with-anger face,
We lock eyes.
We lock eyes and it’s obvious:
I still love you.
Damn the universe.
Damn you too:
I still love you.

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Filed under love, poetry/prose

tea time

something about the breeze
that ebbs into my bones,
the cool flow
of wind
catching on my skin
takes me back
to happiness,
a happiness I could cup
in the palm of my hands
to share
with you.
you…
bipolar destruction,
monster of a mother
wicked wife and daughter
your mania is fading
your depression is waning
all that’s left
is a middle ground
of rage seeping
from your limbs
and orifices.
here, Miss Bipolar…
take this happiness
that I caught today
as I stood naked
in front of an open window
in the light morning
with the dewy wind
cascading around my bare body.
take this millisecond of happy.
boil your blood
and let that happy
steep a while.
drink up.

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Spinning

I’m floating on a planet as my baby boy breastfeeds, as my toddler girl dances around me. It’s all just too much. Tears fall onto his fuzzy baby hair, onto the head that exited me recently. Today, it is all too much in a way that makes me fall into happy pieces on the bed. Yesterday, it was in a way that made me curl up on the same bed and writhe in emotional pain manifesting itself physically. I have days, weeks, months, and years that I fantasize about my former life. I grieve it and yearn for it. I have slight slivers of moments that the life I yearn for is here in my arms, snuggled up to my breast. My dream come true can be seen in my daughter laughing, my son reaching for my face with his curious and clumsy hands. The sunlight seems to find its way even into this basement apartment the same way happiness seems to creep into me. Will I spend my years crying and clawing to regain freedom, space, time? Will I one day melt into this life we have all created? My days are spent in my head. My days spin around me as I spin around on this planet.

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Hardship

I’m walking through a cornfield
In the dead winter night.
Forgotten stumps
Kick at my feet.
I kick back
They laugh.

I’m reminded of phone calls
With her.
Heavy-breathed
And stomping on snow…
Where did she go?
I will always see her
As my first girl love,
Arms around me secretly,
Kisses behind library shelves.
Where did she go?
I see a woman now.

I keep trudging.
Keep stumbling.
The dead little cornstalks
Trip me up
And pull me down.
My breath empties
In puffs of heartache.
I can’t get out of here.
I close my eyes.
I let go.

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Peace

a party house
on the outskirts of downtown.
I place my hands precariously
so.
not touching you.
string lights
tapestries
old wood that moans
in this winter sunlight.

I cross my legs
on a sunken couch.
the roommates throw
words like “cannabis”
and “feminist”
into the chilled air.
pull my sweater across
my fast beating heart.

to the west
I feel like a dirty hippy
but here
when I say, “I’m good, thanks”
in response to, “wanna vape?”
Well.
I feel like a republican
in Berkley.
I feel noticeable
and misplaced.
I want to shrink
into you.

I climb into
my car, into your arms
afterwards.
high on a second-hand
life
where I could be a roommate
in a drum circle
passing a little joint
around and hula-hooping
my days away.
Instead,
I sit with a colicky baby
counting down the hours
until bedtime.

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A Hole in the Wall

“I still get butterflies when I look deep into your eyes”
A text message I want to frame. A text that I needed. Life with children is unbelievably hard. We joke that it’s the worst decision we’ve ever made. But it wasn’t really a decision. And sometimes it’s not even a joke.

It’s incredible to me that this chaos we’re in the midst of…started so innocently. It started with this adorable guy at work that I needed to know. So I hopped in his car. We drove around belting Tenacious D on our first date. “A LONG ASS FUCKING TIME AGO IN A TOWN CALLED KICKAPOO…”. I can’t even imagine those people in that car. How carefree must they have been? How goofy and happy and getting all tangled up in each other…we lament those days.

We hold each other when we think we just can’t do it anymore. We take out the stress we feel on one another. It’s easy to do that. I can’t get mad at a baby for screaming. So I get mad at him. We can get lost in it all and feel like we’re just drifting away.

BUT

It all started with the two of us. Our love just happened to grow in ways we never imagined before. At the end of the day, we hold each other and admire our beautiful babies. The babies that our love made. We would never trade it, joke as we may. He reassures me that it’s worth it. I tell him the same.

We sleep in separate beds in separate rooms right now. Me with the baby. Him with the toddler. He told me we should punch a hole in the wall so we can hold hands. It’s honestly the most romantic thing anyone has ever said.

I love him so much…a little too much…we got carried away and our love bloomed into living, breathing people. That is pretty incredible. Pretty beautiful and wonderful…

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