Masses

I won’t speak to the masses
or bleed lyrical to please
this ain’t about fame
or coins jinglin’ to my knees

I won’t speak to the masses
or go beggin’ for ears
I ain’t tryin’ to be a cool kid
cliquin’ in, sippin’ beers

I won’t speak to the masses
I’ll use my voice when my spirit moves
it’ll find the ones it’s s’posed to
it’ll dance to its own grooves

-image via Pinterest, original source unknown

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All I Need

I don’t need whispers
on angels wings,
diamonds and pearls,
or expensive things

I don’t need poems
expertly composed,
or wishes on stars
and intricate prose

I don’t need gestures
fancy and grand –
all I need is
to hold your hand

-image via Tumblr, original source unknown; reworking of an older poem

Dust

That’s all our history is to you,
isn’t it?
Or, rather, that’s all you hope it is for me.

Scar tissue.

Itchy,
too tight for proper range of motion,
tender,
limiting.

Lasting.

Your mouth says you never meant to hurt me;
I hear your words.
But your actions say something entirely different,
every time.

Because there’s always another time.

You think you’re a knife;
you aim to slice,
deeper, and deeper, still.

But you’re not;
you’re a blunt object.
You hover, in wait,
bludgeoning hard(est) at those who open themselves to you.

You try to take advantage,
to gain trust,
and then trap,
confuse,
mame.

But you’re blunt, after all;
so let’s not mistake you as sharp or keen –
you’re perceptionless,
brusque,
dull.

You’re a one-trick pony.

You’re a bulldozer when a trowel will do,
a hammer when there are no nails.

And there are those of us who are sharper,
keener,
complex,
quicker.

Able.

Sure, you hurt –
but you don’t last.

We are able to leave you in our dust.

-image via Pinterest, original source unknown

Last Train

marrow’s running dry,
soon, you’ll be left with dust and bone,
who will carry those burdens, then,
when your soul is called to home?

time’s ticking’s creating echoes,
heavy heart holding you still,
you and your loved ones grieving,
yet your feet remain planted here

will you dare lay burdens down?
will you let them inside?
will you allow someone to help carry?
or, will you continue to hide?

the last train will come, no doubt;
it will leave them all behind –
will you find your ticket,
or will you be taken by surprise?

-image via Pinterest, original source unknown

You Asked…

as we molded ourselves to one another,
two bodies tucked into a pocket of bunnied flannel,
you asked, softer than the moonlight whispering through the gray drapes,
“what makes you most happy” –
as if your arms were not the answer,
as if you were not what I should say

your name so fluidly sung from my lips,
and I felt your smile against my forehead,
its purpose radiating to your chest and through to your fingertips, encasing me in its warmth –
but then there was a pause,
just long enough for my own chest to rise,
as your smile changed to some unfamiliar sadness, heavy against my shoulder,
and you asked, “what about when I’m gone?”

and I couldn’t make the air leave,
I couldn’t find the words –
I just clung to you, sinking even deeper,
melting myself into your skin as I caught a glimpse of fate’s possibility,
fearing if I spoke,
my words would turn to dust,
just as I imagined my heart would turn to ash if I were here,
between the sheets,
and you were gone

-image via Tumblr, original source unknown

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 eluding to her 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 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 gonna walk over there,
gonna 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 gonna listen to her gasp against my cheek,
feel her heartbeat quicken beneath my palms

I’m gonna 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.

Today is my one year blog anniversary! This is one of my first poems on the blog, one of my favorites, and one of the most popular. Happy to be here – thank you all for sharing this space with me!