in highschool, I had a love of my life.
she was a poet,
an artist,
a gaea soaked athena,
and she walked everywhere in sunlight.
we fought like sea gales,
and fucked like hurricanes,
like summer days,
like winter,
like silence.
we held hands, and at night we slept nude,
her curled up against me.
she was “the one” my “only”.
in my life, I’ve found a few points of no return.
the day I started writing,
trying my first cigarette,
turning points.
kissing a man with passion and tenderness,
hallucinating in the dark,
hammer ‘n anvil moments.
you read work and you don’t know how it makes you feel,
you’re not used to that feeling,
how can you not be used to that feeling?
that’s not intimacy,
that is intimacy,
that’s a single finger swirling spirals–
down your shoulderblades in the darkness,
tired, lazy, movements with no purpose.
in the forest, drunk on moonshine (legal ‘n cheap ‘n probably not moonshine)
you ‘n me ‘n escape from everything behind.
spend so long pushing people away.
trading friendships for vices,
you’re not used to that feeling.
you read work and you don’t know how it makes you feel.
in highschool, I had a love of my life,
and now I don’t.
lightning strikes in metaphores
like meaning lurks in snowstorms,
and I’m just, I’m just, I’m just sayin’
you’ve got passion in spades,
‘n a long history of misplacin’ it.
you’ve got this way of brightenin’ moods,
you’ve got this way of knowin’ when to run ‘n when to stand,
I’m just sayin’ you look mighty attractive in this light.
and now
and now.
I can’t help but let my blood jump along,
draggin’ my footsteps into an off-tempo waltz,
passion and its ways of gettin’ the best of you–
–of leavin’ you halfway between lust ‘n hope.
and I don’t want you to feel alone.
and I don’t.
