Surface

Here I sit
Memories of you tugging at me
like an anchor
dragging melancholy thoughts
into the depths of my soul
and pushing them to the surface
in the form of a single salty tear
I imagine you
your face tormented by shame
confused and alone
lying in a white room
staring out the window past the rusty bars

A dream of 'you'

   I had a dream about you last night. It is the third one I’ve had.  In the dream, we were walking through the woods, you held my hand the way a real man should.  In a way that leads me, but does not control me, that protects me, but doesn’t crush me.  It is strange how dark it is in dreams with you, yet I do not associate you with night or anything dark.  Perhaps it is my subconscious telling me that this is forbidden.  That I should not be dreaming of you, thinking about you or wondering what kind of kiss your lips possess.  We came upon an old house.  The windows were still in tact, the paint was fresh and yet there was no sign of life inside the house.  You took a seat on the front steps of the porch and playfully tugged me to your side.  I leaned on your legs and it was as if the weight of the world had flown away.  I have not known you very long and I shouldn’t be that comfortable with you, but I am and in my dream I sense that there is a deep connection growing between us.  One that does not need to be discussed or analyzed but is content to let itself evolve.  We talked about life, although I cannot recall what specifically, but I do remember your eyes.  They were piercing even through the cold dark of our surroundings.  
     You suddenly lit a joint and took a long hard hit.  The smoke billowed out of your mouth, enticing me and filling my mind with curious thoughts.  We passed it back and forth for what seemed like hours, although time does seem to alter itself when in the presence of Mary Jane.  We laid on the porch and looked up at the stars.  It became quiet, and I felt my body melting into the wooden planks.  There is nothing more calming than sitting in silence with someone and feeling completely at ease because you know the other person feels the same.  You rolled over onto your stomach and looked down at me and I suddenly felt tingles run down my entire body.  The world around us was a blur and as you moved in closer I closed my eyes. 
     Your lips touched mine gently and I could not control myself.  I wanted to yell for you to stop, to push you away, because I knew we shouldn’t be doing this, but everything in me said otherwise.  I kissed you back and it was warm and inviting, just as I had imagined it would be. 

electric

That moon it taunts me
It pulls me in with its white glow
and makes me think of you
And there you are invading my mind
seeping into my skin
and pumping into my veins
I breath in and remember your face
Your eyes that never left my gaze
The subtle way your hand reached for mine
I felt it, that moment of extascy when you know
You know youll never be the same
And it is painful
And it is thrilling
But it takes over your being 
you are content 
Content to linger in it
To let yourself wonder in the possibility

Small

I tell myself to stop

To force the words from my mouth

But you cling to me

like static in the wind

I put if off for another day

In hopes that you'll find your way

I hate you

for making me feel small

I am the discarded one

The picture you gaze upon

when you're lonely

The memory that lingers in your thoughts

You burn hot and you run cold

And I am your target for sorrow

You bombard me with emotion

You lift me up higher than I've ever been

Then release your grasp

to watch me tumble down

I am chained to a familiar place

A place where I think of you when I wake

A place where you haunt my dreams

A place where I am all alone

Alone to dwell on what once was

Alone to wonder

what might have been

Not a soul here knows how I feel

I keep you all to myself

Maybe

If you had stayed

Who would I be
I ponder this for hours
I wonder would I be different
Would I have made better choices
Would I have given so many kisses away
Or looked for you in every man I met
Trying desperately to figure out what I did wrong
Wondering why no one ever stays
Wondering why I am disposable
Maybe I would have felt good enough
Or known I deserved better
Perhaps I would’ve cried less
Or felt complete
If you had stayed
Who would I be

Whore

I had a dream I was a whore
No matter what I did
Life was a bore
I drank martinis
And wore nice clothes
But something inside me
Had begun to decompose
Every man wanted me
I played every part
The lover The fighter
The Demure and The Tart
I dressed like a Virgin
And kissed like a Vamp
My soul was a Martyr
My reflection a Tramp
I danced for the Gents
With the devilish eyes
They grabbed at my zipper
They squeezed on my thighs
I held back a tear
When they lead me upstairs
And took several shots
When they came in pairs
No matter the man
No matter the night
They looked right through me
And grinned out of spite
I did what they wanted
I never said no
They paid me in cash
They paid me in blow
And when it was over
With a thrust and a shout
They’d lean over and whisper
“Can you let yourself out?”

Stranger

      I stay in my town for as long as I can. I call you with excuses of laundry and groceries.  Things that are now a part of my life.  Adult things and yet I do not feel like an adult, but more a child playing house.  I take my time at the grocery store. Aisle by aisle, wondering aimlessly around, thinking of my life and what it is I am doing with it. I sip a coffee as I go, enjoying how something so simple can put me at ease.  My cart is empty.  Perhaps that is a metaphor.  I think of you, miles away, the one I play house with.  Content in knowing that I will make my way home tonight.  Playing your games for hours on end, barely blinking, hardly aware.  I wonder what you would do if I did not come home.  If you’d watch the clock after the sun went down and begin to wonder if I was alright.  Perhaps you’d tell yourself I was stuck in traffic.  After another hour had passed and the sun had tucked itself in for the night, I wonder if you’d then begin to worry.  If you’d bother to check your phone or give me a call.  If it would be too much effort to send a text, after all that is what communication has come down to these days.  A condensed message of meaningless letters and slang. 


      I see a man walking opposite me.  His cart holds a head of lettuce, two red apples and a box of Corn Pops.  I being to think of what his dinner will consist of tonight.  He smiles at me and I smile back.  He is handsome with a scruffy face.  The kind you know would tickle your chin if he kissed you.  We stand, reading the labels on salad dressings.  There are twenty two different brand of Italian dressing.  How would one ever choose?  He acts as if he wants to say something.  Or perhaps I am being ridiculous, but I begin to realize neither of us are in need of salad dressing.  I become nervous with the encounter so I smile and leave the aisle.  When I round the corner, my heart beat slows down again and I check my phone, nothing.  You must have risen from your shiny screen to quench your thirst.  Didn’t you wonder then where I was?  I am in the last aisle when I realize my cart is the keeper of an empty coffee cup and a single can of soup.  I pay for my soup, discard of my cup and head out the door to find a full moon glowing down on me.  The biggest I have seen in years.  I find a bench and sit, enjoying the first of many warm Summer nights.  I think to myself how much you would like this moon, but I quickly regret thinking this.  I know I care more about you than you do of me. 


        Suddenly I am not alone on the bench.  The scruffy faced stranger hands me an apple and promises it isn’t poisoned.  I laugh and take a bite.  We sit in silence, enjoying the moon and I wonder what you would think of this.  We exchange the usual chit chat, brief and light.  His laugh is warm and it makes his cheeks turn a slight red. I want to know so much about him, but then I think of you.  Sitting at home, staring into your own little world, hands clenched around a game controller.  I thank him for the apple and tell him I must head home.  He is caught off guard by my sudden exit, but he seems to understand.  As I drive over the mountain and through the bright city lights, I think of you.  Maybe you have been worried about me all this time and I feel guilty for enjoying a moonlit bench with a stranger.  
     As I unlock the door, I see you, illuminated by the glow of the television, staring intently into the screen.  You say a quick hello, with not so much as a glance in my direction.  I change into my pajamas, walk silently to the kitchen and heat up my single can of soup.  I sit in the chair, staring up at the night sky and I think of him.  The stranger with an apple.  And I wonder if he is thinking of me too.