The Forest

I’m lost in a forest of the tallest trees,
inundated with wickedly bent, sinister trunks,
thicket so dense my feet can barely move,
the air damp and heavy,
sitting like rocks in my lungs.

Swiping and slashing,
I claw at the overgrowth’s sharpness, aching to lift my legs and run, grasping for vines that might save me.

Yet, I don’t want to be saved.
I crave absolution.

On tattered, tired, and bended knees,
I offer you a ridged branch,
begging for penance,
desperate for something rigid to hold onto,
yearning for you to envelope me in the shelter of your palm.

Help me be my vine.

And then I wonder,
how heavy is that staff?
Is the weight just too much?

But you answer,
you deliver.

You take and give,
give and take.

With each give and take,
a little of you infiltrates me,
suffocating the darkness,
penetrating every fiber of muscle,
saturating each porous bone,
filling and filling,
until you seep up through every
follicle and pore,
spilling out and bending to my every contour,
forming a shield upon my flesh that no thorn can puncture.

With you, I can weave my own vine,
with threads of you in the center,
your strength attached to mine in its impenetrable core.

Together we can conquer –
we can see the forest for the trees.

Advertisements

Enough

we were skin to skin,
our heat a ravenous, tangible entity between us,
and I could feel myself thawing beneath it,
softening around the edges,
like the petals of a freshly-emerged flower ready for bloom

we spent hours exploring one another,
all night,
night after endless night

all I remember is white everywhere:
the white glow of moonlight creeping around the edges of the curtains,
the white-hot need bursting behind my eyelids,
the whites of his eyes staring so deeply into me,
his teeth beaming from between his lips in a grin, a growl, a pleasure-pain grimace,
his pale white skin against the soft gray sheets

I’d never known skin could be so luminous and translucent,
a network of purply-blue veins visible just beneath the surface,
like threads of color in white marble,
threads that connected us so completely,
I couldnt tell where he ended and I began

through flesh and unmetered time,
I absorbed his calm,
his vulnerability,
his joy

I said yes to things I previously would not have;
I reveled in this new person I became,
this less afraid person,
this free person he inspired me to be

we fucked all the time;
I was consumed with lust,
perpetually, urgently hungry for him,
for this coupled metamorphosis

l needed to touch him,
meld with him,
know him,
to shed all the layers of contrived bullshit –
for him to know me

I couldn’t get enough

In the Dark

the chronic crackling catches
on the lumps in my throat
with each inhale

every forced expiration
is a labored, hollow whistling
keeping me awake

tiny punctures in the fragile lining
widen with every blink,
becoming jagged fissures

until I gasp and grasp
and try desperately to grab onto anything
that will help me patch the holes

so I close my eyes
and line these bankrupt lungs
with your whispered I love you’s
in the dark

-image via Pinterest, art by Codex Anotomicus

Magic

I thought I knew about a lot of things before I met you

but I never knew what slow, deep kisses meant,
or that they could last all night long

I never knew what the smell of the first morning breeze could do as my head lay upon your chest,
or how that breeze could carry me throughout the day

I never knew how my own chest could ache in your absence,
or that I could smile all the way to my fingertips when we joined again

I never knew I could get butterflies deep in my belly every time you kissed my neck,
or that my desire for you could consume me

I never knew that shared laughter could cure almost anything,
and shared tears could say much more than words

I never knew I could feel fire in my veins when you hurt,
or that my heart’s fullness could spill over when you smile

I never knew I could need like this,
that I could feel swaddled by another so completely,
I can finally rest

I thought I knew all about hope before I met you –
but that was before I believed in magic

-Image credit 7-themes.com; This is for M, the love of my life!; slightly revised older poem

Your Poem

I am your poem,
your intonation and emphasis,
the comma, your pause,
your exclamation

I am your poem,
your meter and rhyme,
the period, your end,
your alliteration

I am your poem
your metaphor and simile,
the hyphen, your joint,
your connotation

I am your words,
melodic and lyrical,
the ones you don’t speak,
your personification

I am your poem

-image found on Tumblr, source unknown; shared as part of dVerse Poet Pub’s Open Link Night #191 in 2017 and revised/edited for this Valentine’s Day

Sacred

when he kissed me,
I was pure, cosmic combustion,
an exploding urge from some uncharted depth,
stirring this frenetic need to break free from something I didn’t even realize was holding me back,
while sinking into this enveloping feeling I never wanted to end;
it was the quickening of some strange, welcomed metamorphosis

whatever was happening between us had this unspoiled sheen to it,
leaving behind a layer of something magical that came off on my fingers when I touched it,
like the precious powder from a moth’s delicate wing,
something so intimate and sacred that was meant to be grasped,
but still set free to fly

-artwork by Gustav Klimt, The Kiss

Life Itself

I don’t know if I know how to do this, if I know how to be loved this much, if I even know what love looks like

is it the way my heart aches with joy when you smile with your eyes?

is it the way I feel my own rib cage squeeze when our little one needs someone, and you scoop her up in a whole body embrace?

is it the freedom I feel to allow my mind to go wherever it needs to go as we sit next to one another on the couch?

is it the breath I exhale when you reach for me as you drift off to sleep?

is it the easiness that comes with deliberate familiarity, with 25 years of growing alongside one another?

is it the ability to argue until we run out of words and the knowing no more are needed?

is it waking everyday with you?

maybe love is in the smallest of choices, in the simple, everyday moments;
what if love is life itself?

-image via Pexels

Mine

Ahh, look at her –
there’s something inevitable about her that draws me in;
my eyes can’t get enough,
I’m addicted

she has this quiet, humble confidence and these kind, welcoming eyes;
a classic, artful line about her

the graceful curve of her shoulder muscles elude to a tranquil strength,
her delicate neck and the unpretentious way she holds herself, mesmerizing,
a tactile symmetry that whispers my name

the way the silky, black fabric rests on the soft edges of her collarbone,
making me wish I could follow them beneath,
her exposed upper back begging for soft kisses,
for finger trails that cause the rest of her to arch in anticipation,
making me want to see just that

and there she sits,
tucking in a few stray strands of that beautiful, auburn hair,
twisted so effortlessly off her shoulders,
completely unaware of the attention,
her beauty so natural,
an easy, feminine elegance,
all woman,
mine

I’m going to walk over there,
going to wrap my arms around her and lead her to dance floor,
kiss the muscled line running from behind her ear and down her neck,
the one that leads to that inviting dip in her clavicle

I’m going to listen to her gasp against my cheek,
feel her heartbeat quicken beneath my palms

I’m going to hold her so close,
she won’t ever forget how I feel about her,
she won’t ever remember a time she wasn’t loved

-Image credit Öykü, found on Tumblr; poem inspired by this beautiful image

Today is my two year blog anniversary! This is one of my first poems on the blog, one of my favorites, and one of the most popular. I’ve done a bit of editing from the original (like most poems I write).

I’m so grateful to be here, and thank you all for sharing this space with me!