If Only

Men disappoint me.

With their need to either over indulge or meagerly meet what most would deem common expectations.

But in fact..

There is nothing common about the man I want.

He is tall, but not towering.

He is cool shade in the summer and a beacon of warmth through bitter winters.

He is strong, but not overbearing.

His hands are gentle bits of force guiding me through pleasure and pain. His arms are walls I will forever be pinned between.

He is sweet, but not ridiculous.

He tells me I’m beautiful without ever speaking a word. Every sentence that does spreads his lips is precisely executed and often echoes even in a crowded room.

He is both stubborn and sensitive.

He caters to my whims and outlandish desires, places faith in my unattainable dreams, and never questions the ludicrous laws by which I live my life. But I shall need to do the same for him. He demands it. And I submit ever willingly to the pungent serenity of his cologne.

He is both illusion and reality.

He peers to me behind covered eyes. He holds me through an imaginary distance. He abandons me in every moment unconquered.

He whispers hope but screams doubt.

He disappoints me with his silence.

If only apparitions could speak

Spring Storm

Lightning dances.

Thunder bellows.

Rain applauds as Mother Nature rages with the fury of a thousand gods.

Sirens sound somewhere like a trumpet before the march.

I have but one light lit behind me; the rest of the room illuminates with the electricity of the Earth.

It excites me,
    enchants me.
Seduces and romances me.

A sky of ink stretches beyond the eye, the lightning teases me with episodes of bipolar brightness, luring me to the horizon. 

Nature orchestrates me so perfectly. 

I feel as though the world sings for me,
    With the yearning power of a whisper..
    With the inescapable certainty of an everlasting echo..

It calls to me.

It makes me scream from a primal place,
    below my gut but above my knees..

I want the storm to touch me.
    To glide its cold and reassuring hand down my fevered spine.
    To cradle my broken heart in it’s honest embrace.
    To caress me with electrons dripping like drops, swimming down my breasts, between my thighs.
    To rattle my body with it’s roar.

I want to make a home in the chaos that so represents my soul.

Whip my hair with threatening winds, flood the Earth between my toes until I succumb, lifting my hips in consent.

Make love to me.
Manifest me in all my darkness and light.

Reveal me to myself. 

Copyright of Copiousveracity

I Will Forget

Darkness hangs at my door
Like a mistletoe, we meet beneath it

You kiss me.

For a second I forget the deep depths of my sadness.

For a moment I let a smile bend my lips.

For a minute I forget.

I forget that my heart is broken. Not by a lover. Not by mistake. But by death and the precise execution of it.

I forget that I am numb. That romance no longer calls to me so sweet a song as before. That no love will exist like the love that was strangled to death by hopeless hands.

I forget. But you still smile. You havent a clue of the maddening storm that brews before you. You haven’t an idea of the abyss above which you dangle.

Step back, dear boy, step back.

I will forget to save you.

Art by Heather Landis

Shannon and Kelsey

You are made of hope and of despair.

Of agony and praise.

You are fierce and mighty.

You are shy and insecure.

You were the flickering light in my dark, damp, and desolate alley.

You were my instinct to survive when my mind couldn’t stand up to fight.

You were the sun sneaking up on me, to remind there’s another day to be had.

You were the moon meandering from one side of the sky to the other, reminding me there is still ground to be covered in the darkness.

You were the fingers between my own, when the idea of separation was worse than starvation, when our families had turned against us, when it was you and me against the world.

They burned your body today.  Or yesterday maybe. I don’t know but you are ashes now and I am still flesh and I wonder how I still breathe, with my soul split in two. With half of me buried beneath flames and shoveled into an urn.

To Shannon. To Kelsey.

To the sweet beautiful girls that changed my life, by both the entering and the leaving of it, I hope you will forever feel me reaching for you, wherever your souls may rest.

May my hand one day clasp yours, and find home.

‘Here’

I don’t know what has brought me here.

I don’t know where ‘here’ is.

A guitar plays as waves crash. My heart gives percussion.

Have I overlooked my destiny? Have I made too many mistakes to hope for redemption? Will I still feel like this tomorrow?

I am missing something terribly wonderful from my life.

Or is this the price I pay for reaching for more? This void. This debt of happiness. Have I not yet paid my dues? Have I still more tears to shed?

There is piano now, and a flute. The crashing of waves has turned to a piddling pond.

I am lost somewhere between the press of flesh to instrument. Loss and heartache whistled to me through a wooden tube.

My body sways.

I dream of falling in. The water and music kicking around me until I am accepted. Embraced even.

Coyotes howl. Crying to the moon like I to you.

Hearts wrenching in the idea you aren’t as far away as you seem.

Alone and Unkissed

I have kissed you in my dreams.

Your fingers pressing into me like notes to a guitar.

Your lips wet against my own, sweet with whispered promise.

The pain of loss numbing beneath your touch.

Hope blossoming within me as the arms of true understanding wrap around me.

The warmth of your requited affection curling my toes.

Minutes slipping into meaninglessness with infinity beheld between us.

I have kissed you in my dreams.

It is only when I wake, alone and unkissed, that I wonder if it is a nightmare.

Now

She lays around. It is midmorning. Her weed in cigar rolled to perfection and is smoking as such.

She flicks her tongue and makes ‘O’s with her lips. She watches the smoke dance to command. To form and unform so fluidly, to change shape on the whim of a breath.

That is what you do to me.

When you are near me, my heart towers over me and overwhelms me with shadow. Changing day to night.

How I love the night.

With its music on street corners, dim silhouettes of strangers surpassing sleep, secret kisses stolen after the closing of prying eyes, the roar of traffic echoing past the boundaries of the city, vibrating every bit of you, beyond your flesh and bone to your soul.

When you are near me, I am cloaked in such sensations. It deludes me of all my rules and convictions. I am absent the world and entirely yours.

But then dawn breaks and you eclipse. I am home and the light illuminates all forgotten facts, my heart once more beats alone and with much too thoughtful of a mind to bid you from it.

My senses return tenfold and constantly chastise me for my foolishness.

Do I wish for my heart to break?

Will I once again kneel upon the pieces while they cut and dig like shards into my knees and feet as I scavenge for bits to put together again?

She watches as the blunt smolders to its end, the cloud of smoke clearing to reveal the reality of her room, her own room. Her bed. Her life. Of which he was of truly no part.

Her heart broke with painful relief.

If there is any time to leave, it would be now.

What Am I to You?

Kisses trickle from my ear down my neck

Across my shoulder

Past my breasts

Your cologne clouds around me and I am home.

My fingers are lost in your hair somewhere. Small moans slip beyond their trap but they make more urgent your already earnest grasp.

You are throbbing and I am throbbing and our pulses beg to beat as one.

My legs stretch open for you without conscience thought.

You have always been the one my heart can never resist. The one my body can never deny.

You lift me in their air as if to exclaim my powerlessness and I am weightlessly in love.

But then I wake up.

And you are a dream. Twisted into reality to torture me. To drive me mad for what I so desperately crave but can never have.

An illusionary, inescapable truth.

What am I to you?

Picture from @darkbeautymag on instagram

I Cannot

Your hand is open and waiting for mine, though I have it lodged tightly in my pocket.

 

You tell me you love me and I reach for the words, but my lips are sealed like a locket.

 

I know it hurts, the crushing weight of everything I’ll never say.

 

I know the days grow longer and your heart more weary, yet you insist it to be worth the wait.

 

I do not wish upon you shame.

 

Or disappointment.

 

Or an ounce of heartache.

 

Yet still I stand before you, wiping the hopelessness from your face.

 

You beg, you cry, you plea but I never promise to change.

 

You are so beautiful.

 

With your hair sleek black like a ravens back

 

With the green eyes of a cat monitoring me as I move

 

Your arched back, your bent shoulders

 

Your lips as they slip into words that bring me closer..

 

Is it not enough to live in these magical moments?

 

Is it not enough to still my unabating thoughts?

 

I cannot give you more, my beautiful girl, I cannot.

Yes, the War Wages On (a journal of sorts)

The crater within me deepens, it’s hunger to be fulfilled is boundless and vengeful.

I am very stuck. Stuck between my desires and my morals. Stuck between romance and love. Stuck between my dreams and my reality. Stuck between speaking my mind and thinking it’s not worth the words it would take.

I try to remember that I am young. Most of my life has yet to be revealed to me, so why is it that I can consciously recognize such a fact as fact, yet my subconscious still roars tirelessly for appeasement? Can no compromise be reached? Will this war wage on as lovers’ hearts are blown to bits about my path, as my own heart grows heavy with guilt and mistrust?

I’m tired of being confused. I’m tired of viewing situations from all perspectives because despite the insight it grants me it deprives me of all my conviction. We are all right in our own right. Except for me, because I am wrong even when I know I am right.

My kiss is a war cry.
My touch, the heat of battle.
I would warn you away from me, but I’ve grown attached to the victory.