In fall I met a boy who had blue eyes and dark hair
and he towered over me thin and strong

and he had wheels for feet but wasn’t a rolling stone
no, that was always me

he told me he loved me with the lights on

and we became helplessly entangled in each other’s limbs
like we were turning into the jungle itself
until it got colder and we were ripped apart
-
in winter I met a girl who knocked the wind out of me
and my lungs have never quite been the same

she would read me poetry as we laid in her silk sheets naked
drinking coffee and she would light my cigarettes

and she taught me how to jump in head first
and how to be charm boys
and how to love *****
and more importantly,
her
-
in spring everything so tightly wound began to come undone
and love became more complicated

and in the end I had to choose whom I loved more
and even now I still question the faulty loyalties I had

and I catch myself driving by both of their houses
feeling unable to control my lungs
or my razor sharp memories
-
in summer the boy with the blue eyes who was my moon
started loving a little girl and we haven’t talked since

and while I waned he waxed
and I hope to never see him again

and the girl who was my rising and setting sun
kissed me for the last time in a smoke filled room

and I lent her my shoes and shirt
and I still think about her every day
-
It's been over a year
and I am still unable to allow these two people out of my head

like a guilty conscience that will never let you rest
and all I can think is

imissyouimissyouimissyou

like it is engraved in my heartbeat

Pushing lace aside,
I hit sweet pay dirt,
granite-tips alert me
to her reaction,
the attraction is complete
when I get weak on my feet,
when my knees crumble,
when we tremble,
release ourselves
in thick waves
of mutual satisfaction.

Women
can endure childbirth,
yet some Men call them
'the weaker ***.'

How arrogant!

Even still,
Women who opt
to be sexist in return
be no better:

Yin and Yang
are interdependent.

Here we are in the tunnel of a yellow slide at the park
with clumps of smoke falling from your mouth like mud
but I shouldn’t be surprised at that

we sat on your porch
and the veins in your arms were just asking to strangle me
and if I’m honest with myself I would have let them
because I couldn’t imagine a better way to end myself

and after work one day I went to the maze near your house

and it was raining warmth out of the dark sky

and I pulled the petals off of all the roses
and threw them in the air and let them rain down on me
because I needed to feel beautiful and dramatic for just a minute
after such a long day

and you watched from your car

because I was just a stupid silly girl that you didn’t want to get caught up in

I got my first tattoo when I was 15
and the feeling exhilarated me
and to this day the buzzing of the gun excites me

and even to this day the sound of your voice creates something inside of me

and last summer I had 4 people in my car that I later totaled

and we were smoking **** in the park
because we bought three blunts at $5 each

because we went down to southeast
and copped them from the black boys playing basketball in the street

and that was back when I still got paranoid about things

like smoke coming out of the car windows at night
and things like my mother knowing the redness in my eyes
wasn’t from my contacts

There is no greater pleasure
Than skin on bare skin