when love lingers

he lingers behind dates written in black ink

behind the words “this time last year”

he lingers in deep belly laughs and in the artwork

that hangs on the wall

he lingers in slurping fingertips

and wine spills on the coffee table

he lingers in lazy Sundays of booze and cartoons

he lingers in everything he left behind

when no more love remained

in his heart

for me.

 

brick by brick

I’m well aware of my walls.

I spent years building them, after all-

I mixed every hurt and heartbreak with my tears

and out of this sad mix

I built the bricks

that surround me now.

I’m well aware of my thorns.

I get pricked by them too, after all-

sometimes distance hurts the most

for the one who creates it

and if pain is the other side of pleasure

you need to go through a bit of wounding

to earn my love lately.

 

sensual saturdays

unzip my dress and

let your fingertips trail down my body

imprint every inch of me with

urgent desire

uncover the places that gift shivers

and with your lips suck the mundane out of my skin

let me show you passion is more than

short breaths and desperate hands

passion is how my eyes memorize the

fire in yours as I take you in

I settle into the pleasure, I sip it in slowly

and soak in the feel of our bodies dancing together in the dark

I don’t need you to take me to the edge of who I am.

I don’t need you to make me forget my name.

I need you to meet me here, in my power and at my center

without any expectation of where this thirst will take us

and who we’ll be and what it will look like

when we get there.

when we merge.

sunshine prayer

sweet sunshine

seep through my skin and settle

deep down into my heart

fill it with the hope of Spring and the promise

of budding trees and blossoming flowers

remind it that everything has a cycle

a beginning and an end

and that rebirth always follows death

again and again and again

teach it to be strong and unwavering

just like you are-

 

darkness may come

but it always bows down

to the light.

snow on the first day of Spring

It’s the first day of Spring.

I press my nose against the cold glass of the door that leads out into the balcony and stare out into the snow- it’s been an hour or so since it started falling and already tree branches support the weight of Winter as rooftops dress themselves in white.

None of life is the way it should be right now.

I wonder for how much longer will I have to stand here, gazing upon the outside world with a foreign sense of hope that arrived suddenly from I don’t know where. I wonder for how much longer I’ll try and hold on to old ways of living and the need to produce something beautiful and worthwhile out of the silence that envelops the entire planet right now.

Is it Winter or is it Spring?

Sometimes life is just as uncertain as the weather.

quarantine mornings

that first moment in the morning when consciousness rises

and fingertips drum themselves awake

and the world is still quiet

except for the bird calls coming from

somewhere out of view

it’s cold so you stay in bed,  warm under the covers

perhaps with just a limb or two exposed for optimal comfort

time becomes irrelevant

when there’s nowhere to go and no one to be

so stay put and soak

in all of the bliss.