Month: April 2020

Spring fever and new nails
They’re pink and I’m pretty
I’m like mauve dresses in Mississippi

Jail break me til dawn
I’ve got that modern edge
Can’t you by now start to tell

We fall out and in
This thickened, shining beach spot where we lie back
Don’t light a few no longer
We put our old habits to rest

I’m lighter now, I feel fine
You hear me talking about that all the time
And I quiet down cos I’m not one to whine
Like a schoolchild

Knee up and rocking forwards on your femur
Back and forth not set in place
So misbehaved
You always make the first moves

I’m a hundred waves of your favorite ocean
Several kisses in your enamored cave
Don’t you wish we would wish the same

Oh, to entertain
Oh, to once more explain

Your illegitimacy, I love it
I’ve never been quite to be, “Don’t be real with me”
Like I was above it

The debauchery and the starlight glamour
And how the moon strikes your eyes hard

Joint clauses have nowhere to go
And you say come spend the night
But I’m not sure if I’m made to flee
Or pull a silent fight

These aspiring hopes, descending acquisitions
Breathe me like a piano bed
Talk shit to me about the heroes we never actually have met

This scale has a tune
A marching band
Who wants to be included

But I grip hold of this balcony
And wonder why if everyone’s being deluded

Sweet dahlias that you admire, don’t tear
Even though you’re so unaware
Your disenchantment is what’s “cool” these days

A million ways
to tell me I look pretty
You choose none of the above because that’s not how you live

When you’re serious you can still be made to chuckle
Those hard nights— I’ll wrap them up like weeds
Never to later retrieve

Driving with sunspots coming our way
Boy with a denial of using navigation
Im thinking you love the abstraction

Me curled up on your couch
Purse on the floor, heels on the side
I’m having a party in your living room

Don’t fight it
I’m having a party in your living room
Downin’ Skinny Girl and gleaming

Falling asleep to this
A new point of view
from your living room

So, you have me flippin’ worlds around
Burning my world down to the ground
Looking up wedding dresses all day long like it’s something that’s actually on my to-do list for at least the near-future.
No.
Where’d the sentiment arrive from?
“Pawn shop blues.”
How do you do that thing you do to my thighs?
Buy me dinner, get me a drink, make me think with the subjects you bring up without feigning interest in what intrigues me too.
Be romantic, please.
Don’t overdo it.
More flowers.
Always more flowers.
Roses, tulips, daisies, more.
To decorate my apartment and
remind me of you.
Bike rides.
Even in the rain. We just need rain coats.
Duh.
Take me to new places.
Like you do.
Take me to old places.
Like you do.
Say farewell in cute ways.
Exit your vehicle to hug me goodbye.
Read my poetry but only if you’re genuinely interested.
In me.
As a person.
Not an object, nor a concept.
Don’t look for me to fulfill you.

Just let me.

You look somber, the way you put your head down
You ask me not to write about you
And then you take it back
Like it was a dirty joke you didn’t want to tell
But the sentiment is there

And I don’t know how to make you feel good
No matter what I try, it’s kind of one of those things
Where you can’t get your way
You toss and you turn but there’s rationally no movement
Gaps in between pauses
Stained sheets
What makes you feel unwell when you’re not in my presence
What makes you descend into your kinder self when you are
I am a pawn and you are my King and we lie
Adjacent at night
But not together.