Maybe 8/30

maybe it was the only thing we ever wanted
maybe we moved too fast used poor judgment
fell into something we were not ready for
maybe it was the right thing at the right time
your voice in my ear
the way we layered
hung on every word
the way I made you laugh from a genuine place
the way that frightened you so we had a fight
that made no sense and ended with us rocked by love again
sweat and lust and your eyes
maybe it was the way we talked after your first time with me in daylight
exposed to God and all of her angels
maybe we were so right for each other
that we shook our own foundations
placed our own minefields just below our surface
blew ourselves apart
rather than fall in the love we looked like
maybe

maybe it was the one thing we wanted from each other
to love elastic
stretch ourselves around the terrain of our curves
hold on for dear life
look us directly in the eyes
kiss us on the mouth
enjoy the happy we were becoming
maybe

maybe I’m not afraid anymore

maybe I’m hoping you are not afraid anymore

maybe one day
dressed in our worthy
our confidence
our switchblade smiles
our never been happy like that
maybe
we will find each other
maybe
it will be the only thing we ever wanted
again

On Holding Your Tongue

On Holding Your Tongue


She thinks she remembers the way the girls hands hovered.
She wanted to know the touch of them. Wanted to feel fingers
massaging her memories back to before she forgot
to pay attention. Bit her lips pretended it was the girls kiss.

Morning on the other side of I miss you is not her happy place.
On those mornings she sleepwalks her way to forgiveness
gets stuck in regret and barely manages to keep her bones
above quicksand. She checks her pockets. Finds her tongue
attempts to re-anchor it so she can finally speak. It’s a bad fit.
Falls to the floor. She can’t remember the last time beauty
made her jaw drop.

The girl with the hovering hands wore an apprehensive smile.
Mona Lisa, but darker. The girl held secrets between her thighs
and sometimes when they shared she knew everything.
She would float sometimes, the girl with hovering hands,
hold clouds between her teeth. She would blow kisses
over her right shoulder. She thinks she remembers catching
those kisses. Placing them in her pocket right next to her tongue
promising to blow them back to the girl once she figured out
how to disguise blood spatter.

She thinks she remembers why things failed. The girl with
the apprehensive smile never knew that she cut out her tongue
so she’d never say anything to drive her away. So the girl,
her hands and her smile mistook silence for disinterest
instead of the adoration it was born to be. She thinks she
remembers trying to speak. No sound came.

Midnight on the other side of I miss you is failing moonlight
and false memories. Those nights she roams an empty house
checking the corners for hovering hands. She collects the dust she finds
sprinkles it on her open wound heart and hopes for concrete. She fumbles
with sewing needles and razor wire trying to stitch back her tongue
so she can finally say what she feels unafraid of letting the blood show.
She thinks she won’t forget this time because she can’t remember