A Place In Your World

I want to be the music you wear
When you’re sad,
That wraps around you in subtle shades
Of ache and raindrops
Becoming the words that pull
The threads of your misery
From the ragged lips of your scars.

Maybe I could be the smoke
Swirling in your lungs
A need and a slow suicide all at once
The mortality you embrace
With equal parts longing and loathing
The poison you can’t live without
Consumed by your addiction.

Or perhaps I could live
As the absence, the hole
Defined by the bedsheets
You refuse to make
The half empty cup of coffee
Or the unwashed t-shirt
You run through the knots of your fingers
Like a rosary measuring the missing.

I would gladly
Become all of your sorrow
If it meant I had a place
A presence somewhere
In your world,
Some desperate form of relevance
Instead of just the furniture.

If I Could Choose My Moment

I am the imperceptible inching closer
The distance covered by reduced halves
Never closing the gap
An infinity of nearing
The touch of breath before the kiss
Hairs raising in expectation of touch
A hundred thousand million goosebumps
Of tingling flesh,
The catching breath caught forever
The described between the back and the bedsheets
A memory of sweetness upon the tongue
All of the moments right between, just before
The taught bow string forever humming
I am perfect longing,
Exquisite, beautiful ache.

Fingers Like Fire

There is a fire burning in my 
chest
It’s stoked by fingers reaching 
from the past
thatrandompoet

Does porcelain become brass
Under heat and flame?

Can her hands glow even brighter

Any part of her shine

As her eyes do

Through the smoke and wrack of memory?

If any fingers could stir

Cold ash to wakeful tongues

Of hiss crackling orange and red

They could only be her’s

The girl crowned and clothed

In autumn copper herself.

Does she know

That her hands run through my veins?

Still to this day

Card through the warp and weft

Of my tangled skein
Making a cat’s cradle

Cutting bloody slivers of my heart

With the same indifference any child gives

To such games?

Of course she doesn’t

I turned away from any such hope

I have my answers

Knowing I will burn again and again and again

Each time cold ashes are stirred

To quickening light

By hands that could only ever be her’s.

Addressed to a Girl, Somewhere

Somewhere, right now
There is a girl
Whose smile will be the death of me
Who laughs in the rain,
Holds her mug of tea
With two hands, just below her mouth
Like she’s whispering secrets
Into the steam.

Somewhere, she sits
Legs curled beneath her
Reading Tolkien in her underwear
Listening to Elvis Costello
On 180 gram vinyl
Because fuck yes it sounds better
Looking simple and plain and perfectly beautiful.

I know she’s out there
And I’m dying to tell her
That I’ve memorized exactly
How she tilts her head in thought
Or how her shoulders shake when she just can’t take any more
Or how she drives me crazy mispronouncing “supposedly”
But I still don’t care because it’s her and she is everything wonderful.

Somewhere, right now
I am loving every small beat
Of her sweet heart
Forever and ever and ever
So every night,
I am sending her goodnight kisses
Addressed to somewhere.