Words have always been good to me but there are no words for your hands on my body, sinking into my bones, pulling me into you. There are no words for the sound of your breathing ebbing and flowing over me, rocking me in the sweet salty waves of the sea. Nothing good enough for the taste of your tongue, the soft of your skin, the light. Words have always been good to me but never as good as our bodies spilled together like coins in pockets and the looks that touch parts of me your hands can’t reach.
I just want it to be summer, so we can go camping. I miss laying underneath the stars and taking comfort in constellations refracted in eye light and dancing on freckled skin. I want to get drunk and feel the night through whiskey blind eyes. I want the smell of camp fire to sink into our bones like teeth and tongue and cheek. I want bodies in the grass. Embers burning. Sweet and sweat. Embers glowing. I want the lake to bathe our beautiful, bare shells in. Howling. Naked. Moonlight.
it’s always sometime in the a.m. somewhere in between the comings and goings of the sun and the moon. always filled with heavy words like weights on tongues tasting of rust and silver of embers and boulders.
it’s the deep breath. i look at the clock and all i can see is the little hand holding tight to the big hand. i want to lay with you like coins in pockets but the bed feels like a sea without you here. i wake up tasting tears and cringing from the salt seeping into open wounds. its the deep breath. like a wave washing the sleep from my eyes, washing away the sin of lovers keeping secrets whispered through chapped lips in the night.
it was all fingertips and brushed kisses like painting every shade of red on my canvas skin. when all i want to hear is Iron and wine or the sound of your breathing, or the wind chimes outside my window or your hand rubbing against my back or the sound of our lips parting after a kiss.
if i drift off will you still be there in the morning. humming blood bank and smelling of black coffee with 2 sugars. sugar.. will you want to pull the covers over our heads. its the sigh. i’m like loose tea in your mug, you can only soak up enough or maybe i’m wine drunk and lipstick stains on cigarettes, lipstick stains on your pillow.
its the sigh. you thought it was a deep breath. maybe it was. who knows. who fucking cares. its the thought of you whenever i hear a mandolin. its the gaps in between teeth. the harmonies. i wonder if you’re warm right now, sometime in the a.m. somewhere in between the comings and goings of the sun and the moon. always filled with words i want to take back and words i’d wish i said.
are you safe? like i was when i was encased in your arms, melting bones charred in places i couldn’t reach. did you find your way home?
Sometimes life is so damn hard and not because it has to be, but because we make it that way.
"I’ve never been with a black girl before."
Oh, that’s nice. I don’t think that really matters. Being with me WILL be special but not because I’m black, but because I’m ME!
"So, do you like white guys?"
First of all, if I’m kissing you it’s because I like you. Second of all, I like ALL guys.