Apples & Honey

Her every word is something sweet.
She speaks so sensibly and smiles,
And cares like caring is a treat
Too tempting to stay away from.

To taste her mind would nourish you,
And reason out those foolish tricks
That frightened you into pushing away
The parts of you you're missing.

And beauty hardly describes her face;
The life, the light behind her eyes
That permeates in any place
She goes to be alive in. 

She's sweet enough to drown in,
To swallow down until you're sick. 
It's hard to put the bottle down
When it insists you drink it.

Apples and honey make a snack
So tempting its hard to turn away.
As one should never lack for love,
Having lacked, it still gives me stomach pains.

Love Spelled With A Capital “E”

 Men, women, and persons;
You enigmas of violence, misery, sex, and boredom;
 How are you feeling?

To what end is your violence?
To what depth does your misery brood?
What comfort have you found in sex?
What madness does your boredom uproot?

If you're honest, I would guess, every answer, some way, stems from  love.
Acknowledge this with me if you expect my intimacy.

The Whisper

Asleep in your dream
                   They whisper in your ear
As if they were beside you

Delicately, dulcetly, in the voice of a kiss

"Show us who you are,..."

They tear away your covers,
And you'll probably awake.

A Lovely Little Death

This is Death, my infinite pastime,

My plaything, my dalience.

It fucks me breathlessly into the great unknown,

And spits me out, and leaves me there.

God help us, goddamnit!

It wasn’t enough to make us feel alive?

To make us suffer so we want to feel alive?

We inherit a lust for beauty and are demanded to close our eyes?

What depth there is in darkness could never be enough.

Is it ever sweet enough to sleep? Well,…

Yes.

It is, sometimes,…

When I go to bed exhausted, my sleep screams with delight.

And the more I romaticise, the more attractive it seems.

So at the end of the day, I only hope that I’m weary,

Not from toil, or troubles, but from the ecstasy of a brilliant party.

We Talk Too Much

It was never over like I thought it was

Looking for myself and finding more of us

I don’t want to be that girl who can’t forget you

But I’m ready for you if you ever wanted to

We never really kissed as far as I recall

Somehow I’ve felt your lips and seen it all

I hate admitting that I think about you every day

There’s just too much I never got to put away

We talk so much, I’m thinking that I’m not alright

You haven’t heard me yet because you haven’t been in sight

I’m in a bed like always when you’re on my mind

I needed sleep, but it’s always you I seem to find

It’s over, past the date, so many years by now

Evidently I still need to feel about you somehow

I need to scream, I need to fuck, I need to fill a whole

If not with you then I don’t want to feel you anymore

I guess you should’ve never left me any hope

I’m going to cry about you now and hope to be alone

Mary

When I imagine you, My empathy makes a monster of your misery, One I’ve studied often in my dreams And more frequently discovered in reality. I wonder when it breathed, When spark and spleandor clashed that evening, And you saw what it had seen How it found you in your sleep.

I Want To See Your Shining Face

There will always be

A rain cloud sheltering us from the burning sea,

A wave of trembling gray sky

Separating the sunlight from you and I.

In these days of windy shade we shimmer,

Starlight, moonlight, refractions twinkling in time,

Sharing and searching for truths in each other,

Where faces imbue our spirits with its shine.

Secret Room

Clear your muddled, cluttered head

And have a slice of honeyed bread

To take into your secret room

Where your tea is hot and your flowers bloom.

There, you’ll think and have a smoke,

Text a friend with a random joke,

Watch the birds and people go by

From the window on the other side,

Start the first lines of a poem,

And just feel fully alive and alone.

Transfeminine Spring

Waking up with a patient hunger,

Taking my sweet time to think, body heavy from a long sleep,

I put myself together, slowly, silently in the rising sun.

Becoming aware of myself brings a strange new comfort,

A focus without sharpness, and silent sublimities.

Peace, in its few moments, is shockingly sweet.

Pleasure is simpler and easier to accept,

As are my pains, fears, and many other familiar happenings.

I care more for the thought of existing than the person I was ever could,

As though a portion of my emptiness was washed away,

Cleansing away a brutal year into my first transfeminine spring.

We Could Grow Our Own Life Together

We could have a tiny world, a modest one, all to us,

To paint our ideals, our passions, and secret wishes onto.

Caring for each other and nurturing the land

Our children, a family of colors, scents, atmosphere and earth.

We’d till and sow all our own way,

And grow a living dream, transcendent from every angle.

We’ll compose a landscape tuned to the mood of our time together,

Like living music to the moment we’ve adopted.

Seasons and years renew the youth of our creation,

So every day we enjoy new spaces of imagination to occupy together.

This is the world we birth with our own hands and thoughts,

Held together indefinitely, in reverie and splendor.