Wearing the rough worn fabric
of your kisses
leaves a chafe
along my neck and thigh and heart —
your touch has never been satin,
your gaze has never been silk.
You’re the sackcloth and ashes of love,
marking me in poverty and shame
in the best of cases,
and in the worst,
leaving me bare
for all to see my unclaimed self.
Dress
Posted in Love Poems, Poetry
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White Collar
Bless me, Father,
for I have sinned.
It has been a lifetime
since my last confession.
Would someone please
just hit me, already?
Posted in Love Poems, Poetry
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Who We Are
What do you think
What do you mean
Who takes hold
Who lives inside me
Who we are
when I go back
when I look back
when I’m faced
with last night’s bravery and stupid decisions
when I can turn it slowly
turn the dial
twist it
flip the switch,
every morning I crush myself
under the weight of something
I can’t even see
It always turns into this.
It always comes down to this.
Who we are
is less of what we want
and more of who we aren’t,
who we fear to be,
even when that being
would be better.
Posted in On Depression, Poetry
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Image
Freezing
standing
in middle of nowhere
cold
looking for a destination
wondering
where the fuck we’re all going
seeing something on the horizon
A hazy sort of mirror thing
just an illusion
just a mirage
heading toward an oasis
we only hope is there
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
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Direction
Freedom from what ails me,
a darkened thing that hovers near
when I am smile-smiling,
when I am face-facing,
when I am talk-talking
to the blank-eyed,
loveless,
heartsick,
soulworn,
limping wisps
that try to pull me
off my path.
I have a direction.
I have a purpose.
I found it just now.
Just you wait.
Here I come.
Posted in Poetry
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