day 11 – a testament to short-lived infatuation

soft steps through the side door
and into the basement of
your parents’ house,
strangely inviting with its books
and bricks and instruments

you are grown and
there is something delicate about
you being here and this time
you are gentler with me and
i am coy with you

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day 9 – nerves, laughter, love

1. nerves

come for a drink?
i shouldn’t
but i do
and, to my surprise,
you’re there alone

you tell me i’m wearing too much lipstick
and the honesty is refreshing

drive me back?
i shouldn’t
but i do
and, frantically uncertain,
i invite you in

you tell me you’re not going home
and the truthfulness of it resonates

2. laughter

you laugh and tell me you’re capable of saying anything
to manipulate me into hating or loving you
in this moment

i laugh and tell you i’m better at reading you than you think
and that you’re nervous and i can feel it in your chest
and hear it in your voice

you laugh, conceding begrudgingly and wrap yourself around me
proclaiming it’s not because you want to kiss me
and i have cigarette breath

i laugh and kiss you anyway

3. love

this is not and
never will be
love

(but it is fun)

 

day 6, day 7

a. day 6 – imagery, and later…, and later still…

1. imagery

day spent in bed,
thoughts tormented by imagery
vivid imaginings of body upon body
lips upon lips

you in some distant place
with some unknown face

2. and later…

and later, an autumn evening
brimming with melodies
and reassurance
steals you from me and
places you where you belong
(in your own city,
in your own bedroom
with your own belongings,
your own jealousies
and your own lust)
and leaves me light,
surrounded by friends
and teeming with laughter

3. and later still…

and later still, an old friend in new light entertains me
until dawn blooms and the hummingbird outside my window wakes

we fall asleep fully clothed, innocent and excited
and i feel something i haven’t felt for a long, long time

i feel better than you, purer than you, distant from you
and the future reinvents itself, uncertain and endless,
as the midday sun peeks through the window to wake me

b. day 7

haiku for fun

yes, my gatekeeper
frightful boardgames and laughter
and someone to hold

day 5 – final goodbye, haiku for slow death

1. final goodbye

the final goodbye comes on a cold night
after an evening spent in shy, innocent company
it comes like death; it feels like death

2. haiku for slow death

the drugs disappear
with thoughts of your hands on her
face and back and legs

 

day 3 – w, anti-apology to an unspecified someone, a friendly hello to self-destruction

1. w

well, the wanting wanes
as i wash away the debris
left in my wake –
feel my wrath;
i am living it

2. anti-apology to an unspecified someone

i did something to someone
and i wondered how i’d feel
if someone did the same to me
as this someone is fragile
in the same ways i am

i tried to feel sorry
but i’m not
and i’d do it again

3. a friendly hello to self-destruction

i am falling off the rails again
but with composure this time,
diplomatically burning everything,
embracing its emergence
just as i will its end
and its inevitibility

day 2 – stranger

speak of dionysus
and art films
and childhood friends

speak of whiskey
and religion (or lack thereof)
and black holes

speak so as to keep me distracted,
stranger
(friend)

day 1 – thank you, old friend

i was out to wrong someone
(probably myself,
as these things usually go)

the hour approached and
your hand was near my leg
the hour passed and
your hand was on my leg

we tried to be nice to one another
but there were two ghosts in the room
so we spoke of heart ache
and i drove you home