Autumn

Posted on November 8, 2019 by Catastrophe Jones

I walked through
the falling leaves and tasted
the crisp fog and the maple air
I ran my fingers
over frost stone
over spider rope
over field lace and sky

I did not miss you.

I twisted braids of dough
and brushed them with icing sugar
surrendered them to the fire
and hoped for the best.

I did not miss you.

I bit into the softest peach
the juice sweet against my chin

I did not miss you.

I tried to dance the waltz alone
and listened to his voice
when he sang of the moon and the magazine
the sailors lament

to think of your radiant skin
the shine of your teeth
how your smile
killed a thousand men

Ah, I missed you, then!

Posted in Love Poems, On Depression, Poetry | Leave a comment

She is Drowning

Posted on November 7, 2019 by Catastrophe Jones

She is drowning (I said)
The water closing over her head
over her fingertips
She is drowning (I said)
but the words were lost in the water
She was me
(I said)

Posted in On Depression, Poetry | Leave a comment

I see you

Posted on November 6, 2019 by Catastrophe Jones

I see you there
With your soft smile and your bashful eyes
But I also see you there
With your angry hands and your tight jaw

I see you there
With your kind words and your gentleness
But I also see you there
With your smugness and your arrogance

I see you there
Smiling at her
But I also see you there
Baring your teeth

Does she know the wolf you are
Or does she see the lamb you wear?
I see you
I see you
I see you
There

Posted in Poetry | Leave a comment

Let’s bring back connection

Posted on October 25, 2019 by Catastrophe Jones

I don’t know which of you beautiful goblins out there needed to read everything, literally everything I’ve ever posted in the ‘grief’ and ‘loss’ tags — but whatever you’re going through, I’m sorry.

DM me somewhere, ok?

Everything is terrible, but maybe you don’t have to be alone.

Posted in Just Blog Stuff, Real Life | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Two can keep a secret

Posted on October 10, 2019 by Catastrophe Jones

I love you and your black heart,
the way you answer me, when I call.
I love you and your black heart,
the way you laugh when I am just me.
I love you and your black heart,
the way you make me come
with the tips of your fingers,
the flat of your tongue.
I love you and your black heart,
and the way your skin feels
under my palms,
the sharp of your jaw,
the soft of your thigh.
I love you and your black heart,
the way you whisper sadly, anger,
the way you whisper softer, love.
I love you and your black heart,
and remember the hotel rooms
and the restaurant booths
and holding my hand under the table.
I love you and your black heart
and your cigarettes
and your rum chocolates
and your white bathrobes
and your long showers
and your rumpled bed
and your rough burn of my voice
after you’ve spent me
and your heartbeat,
pounding,
steady,
strong.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.

Posted in Fiction, Love Poems, Poetry | Leave a comment