his kisses go deeper than my skin.
my body burns where he touches,
and burns where he doesn’t touch.
we are lips, legs, arms, and bodies
entangled.
is it possible to feel nostalgic
for something that is happening
right now?
an anticipatory nostalgia?
my brain can think of no other way
to describe it,
but this:
by him,
i am made
i am unmade.
December 19, 2015
he is one of those people
who has a talent for life
waltzing through each day
and hanging the moon
in his spare time
he looks into my eyes
not as if they were windows
but as if they are a hole
in the fucking brick walls of my soul
words roll off his tongue like molasses
he quotes poets and tells dirty jokes
in the same breath
he asks me to dance at 1:00 in the afternoon
as he sings Sinatra in my ear
he swallows tequila
without blinking an eye
while i’m getting drunk on his smile
April 23, 2o15
Unfiltered Poetry 