Skin to Skin

He gently stokes the skin along my neck.

He does it in a way that was never meant to be erotic

but rather like a father trying to sooth his child to sleep.

He kisses the top of my head to remind me once again that he is here.

That I am here.

It’s easy to forget every now and then.

I press my head deeper upon his chest.

Here things seem slow and calm and real.

He moves his face toward mine and grazes his lips upon my forehead.

Then my cheek,

and pauses at my lips.

He glides his finger over my mouth and I pout so we’re closer.

Sometimes skin to skin still doesn’t feel like enough.

His lips meet mine and they dance slowly,

gracefully.

In a way I didn’t think it was possible for me to move.

He tastes of the wine we had just finished

but I guess I was still craving it.

 

Two Poems About One Loss

(1)

I smoke too much,

And now my head hurts when I walk,

But maybe it’s not the cigarettes.

Perhaps it’s the echo of the lies you told

Pounding in my head.

 

I drink too much,

And now my eyes burn when I look outside,

But maybe it’s not the booze.

Perhaps it’s the fear of seeing you with her

That made me wish to go blind.

 

I took too many pills,

And now I can’t find my bed,

But maybe it’s not the drugs.

Perhaps it’s the home where we lied

Makes me loose my mind.

(2)

You were everything I needed,

And now you’re not mine,

I wanted to come see you,

But all I’d do is cry.

Your ginger hair,

And the guitar you play,

Has made a home in my mind,

I can no longer stay.

So one day I’ll leave,

To where you can not go,

Please do not follow me,

You can not stoop that low.

I will write you a note,

Tell you that I have gone,

Do not cry for me,

During dusk or through the dawn.

Time

I missed you

But the sun still rose,

And it continued to warm the Earth.

I missed you,

But the time still passed,

Like any other day.

I missed you,

But the music still sounded

The way it always had.

I missed you,

And I will always miss you,

But life still continues.

I suppose

I will have to accept

That you are no longer

part of my life.

Cry

She will cry,

She will cry over you like there is no tomorrow,

She will cry until her throat is raw,

And until her hair is a mess.

Her screams will echo through the walls,

And there will be nothing beautiful about it.

 

She will tear out the pages of her notebook that she dedicated to you,

And swear that your name will never again appear on the crisp pages that are so important to her,

But two days later the words won’t come,

And she’ll find herself sprawling your name over and over until the ink blurs and merges with her tears.

 

She will curse you,

And curse herself,

And curse the skies for everything,

And for nothing.

 

There will be days when the sun shines,

But all she can see is rain and clouds,

And days when she won’t see anything at all.

 

And fuck,

She will love you even though her heart is breaking,

Because she gave you a part of herself,

That you refuse to return.

 

But know this,

She will also learn to forget you.

 

So when she walks by you in two months time,

Laughing and smiling without a care in the world,

You will wonder how she slipped through your fingers,

And she won’t care.

 

A letter to the boy I could not love

Thank you for all the kind words, they’ll last a lifetime. I know you’re hurting now but unlike the words you spoke the hurt will fade. I’m sorry your bed is stained by the tears I caused. I’m sorry your passenger seat is covered in my cigarette ashes. I’m sorry your pillow was left with my lipstick marks. I’m sorry every girl who hurts you will remind you of me. I’m sorry I left you with so many pieces of me I’ll never truly be absent.

But run yourself a hot bath, pour yourself a glass of wine, shed a couple tears, smoke a few cigarettes, listen to some sad songs, and keep the knives away. Soon the wounds will heal and you’ll forget the colour of my eyes and the songs will no longer seem like they were written about me. Soon you’ll stop searching for me in the crowded streets. You won’t think of your hands in my hair, or my fingers interlocked with yours. You’ll erase my laughter from your memory and your favourite T-shirt will lose my scent and you’ll be whole without me around.

Different

I haven’t been writing like before,

The only thing that drives me to pick up a pen anymore are a few glasses of whiskey.

I haven’t been singing lately,

The way I did with you in the shower,

Maybe because I’m always on my own and things we used to do together makes me feel lonely.

I don’t sleep enough,

I only dream of you at my feet and waking up is too painful.

When you left you left your sent on my skin and I’ve scrubbed for three days straight but you just won’t disappear.

I don’t go to all my classes,

They feel too long and I’m not paying attention anyway.

I don’t paint,

I always find my way to the colour of your eyes and it’s not beautiful anymore,

It’s tragic.

I don’t spend much time at home,

The walls want to know where you went and I don’t have the answer.

I forgot to eat today,

I didn’t realize until I got ill and had nothing in my system but the vodka that goes down like water these days.

I wouldn’t

I could fucking kill him.

I could gently wrap my hands around his neck and watch the life drain from his face.

I could take his pillow from beneath my head and turn to his sleeping frame beside me late morning and press it to his face, smothering him until his body goes limp.

I could slip something in his drink the next time we go out.

Better yet,

I could fucking kill myself.

I could take a bath at his house, and take one of his over used razors to my wrists.

I could tie a noose tightly around my neck attached to his bedroom ceiling while he’s busying sleeping until noon.

I could make the rest of his thoughts revolve around me,

I won’t.

But what a powerful thought to know I could.