(library)

It was a library. It was a room full of books, it was a tribute to the glint in his eyes and the flesh of his stomach. The almost-brown of his hair. The sea green of his eyes and the gray of his fingertips. It was a volume of books in alphabetical order and they all wrote his smile in my mouth. They all wrote his name.

(composed in 60 seconds at oneword.com)

90.

The soars and groans of stanzas written between us make a bridge and we cross it. We are two pilgrim parts and we make something whole only when we stand side by side. Your hair makes mine longer. My eyes make yours bluer. We are complimentary angles and the harmony and the melody and you are the one who holds me up now. You are the only one who holds me up now. You are all I want holding me up now.

89.

they will whisper things like Death inside your ears
they will taunt you with your name
they will hate you almost as much as
you hate you

they will fashion you from plastic
curve your arms and legs to certain forms
bend you at the knee
and you will not feel a thing

they will break your collar bone
they will peel the skin from your face
they will pull the strings of sinew from your elbows
they will hurt you

and you will not wake up
and you will not wake up
and you will not wake up

Ivy Vines

all I want is
your thighs, my back
we are oysters
we make pearls together

and our eyes are oyster eyes
opalescent and shining
looking into other eyes and feeling
sympathy for those who are not us

I feel your skin and it is centaur skin
we are human bodies with horses’ legs
running faster than we thought
we could, standing taller than our
bodies could stand before
we met each other

and we are satyrs
we drink wine and break things
and dance on mossy legs

I feel like naiads in the summer
splashing warmish water on your
face and begging you to join me
in the water, you will say no
(sometimes) but I will ask again

most of all we are ivy vines
curling one around another and pulling
bricks down so that we can build
something green and growing
together