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19

Jan

bedtime Nirvana

Waking up to you feels like being held in the cocoon

of a gentle storm,

I sleep with such stimulated serenity. 

We dream like spinning tops, forever revolving

only stopping to breath when our eyes awake

like sail boats cruising through tranquil waters.

I look at you and I see so many stories.

I often wish that we could sail with such

ease forever. That the seas would never part

and the revolution of our cycle together would spin

until we were too dizzy to know differently.

I bit into you, even though you were forbidden.

The bites are endless, and the nectar of everything

that is you tastes like the Nirvana of contentment. 

Your arms, the cornucopia of nourishment, I float.

Across the stream of our muddy waters

we are buoyant in our divinity. 

-b

22

Nov

My life in this past month has been a whirlwind

of change and transformation and I am both weary

and strong.

I feel as if I could take on the world better than any

warrior ever could. And yet my pallet of multi-facetted emotions 

are becoming swirled into one colour that is grim and unidentifiable. 

I am finding absolute serenity in solitude and the idea and fantasy of stepping on a plane entirely alone.

And yet I am still yearning for men. And I am hungry for love. I am thirsty for lips on my neck and hands on my chest. And that thirst seems to be unquenchable. Unattainable. 

WHY?

Why do I find myself at the utmost peace when I am being coddled by the pheromones of a man?

It is not malicious and it is certainly not without contempt or care, it is  my inner instinct that pours out of me and possesses my heart and mind as one. 

-b

26

Sep

the ex x

I

You are a magnet.

Not the kind used in the scripts of rom coms.

But the kind that is both piercing and gravitational.

The kind of magnet that chokes the cords around my windpipe, stronger than any hands every could.

 The kind that pulls you swiftly towards light, before you realize it is only a shadow. 

Or a mirage.

II

I call myself a writer

but every time I try to plunge at the keyboard with my suffocating

agony, I drift off into a tornado of silence. 

And my hands, full of colour, become soft and dispondant like a runny yolk. 

III

I want you to know that I can get through a day (or maybe two) without a whisper of your name crawling through me.

I am better at being a alone.

And now, the light of your name on my phone only sends three shocks to my heart.

Not ten.

 I don’t like the weight that I’ve gained. But I can still feel your hands along the map of my hips, complaining that I’m too skinny.

Or that my hair is too red.

Or that I call too much.

IV


And I wonder why the thought of you being here, an arms length from my sanity, is sending me into a coma of nausea. 

Because after all, I will always be worlds away from you. 

You and I are like Pluto and earth.

Orbiting around the sun, and never sharing the same warmth. 

-b

07

Aug

on being really distant.

Sometimes the potency of your love

comes flooding like a fire in a forest.

And I am set a blaze with the promise

in your dimples.

And sometimes I awake ridged

and worn, and I feel as if

the equator between us

is a figment of my

own desperate imagination.

And you are a sillouette that lives only

on my walls.

On my desk.

In my bones.

I remember the night we ate 

handfulls of pyschedelia and watched

my bathroom wall tell us how our lives were going to be.

My tile fortune teller.

I remember the days when we laid under the covers

like pretzals. Thighs, coffee and cream swirled together by

sweat. I ate you up like I had been fasting for months-chewing on your words like taffy.

They stuck to my teeth and I swallowed only the sweet, sugary, goodness.

You were a well that had the crispest, cleanest water. And I drank and drank and drank, and never was quenched. 

But now I have learned…..

You can’t curl up at night to a computer.

Or an equator.

Or an ocean.

And maybe, in order to seal

the gaps of countries, between me and my sanity, I still am feasting from

those days in bed.

Paralyzed by your magic. 

-b

07

Jun

the haunting pt. 2

I awoke with you

once again,

gnawing away at the

knots of my nerves.

Miles and miles and worlds away

and you still continue

to haunt me stronger

than you ever have. 

-b

07

Aug

sacred.

I carry with me all of our yesterday.

And I spill out all of the tomorrow that’s

clawing from the anticipation in my collar bones.

Leaping from the sweat tucked in the backs of my knees.

Sitting fragrantly where I keep our love.

Your love that sits with the delicate

weight around my finger.

Your love that found a home in the

ridges and roads of my skeleton.

In the calcium of white on my nailbed.

Your love that filters through my type O negative

stream of vitality.

Rare and sacred.

-b

04

Aug

I would do anything to be 
in this photo again.
A magnet to your side. 
I would do anything to have your voice
be not in a speaker.
I would do anything, to drown
in this distance, and be
falling once again with you. 
I would do anything to have your flesh
become my flesh, and your eyes mold into my eyes,
and your palms sink into my palms. 
And your plans, become my plans. 
My future, becoming your future. 
I’m drowning in this distance. 
Come drink up this distance. 
I am aching in this distance. 
-b

I would do anything to be 

in this photo again.

A magnet to your side. 

I would do anything to have your voice

be not in a speaker.

I would do anything, to drown

in this distance, and be

falling once again with you. 

I would do anything to have your flesh

become my flesh, and your eyes mold into my eyes,

and your palms sink into my palms. 

And your plans, become my plans. 

My future, becoming your future. 

I’m drowning in this distance. 

Come drink up this distance. 

I am aching in this distance. 

-b

02

Aug

scraps of long distance

In missing him, I felt the continuation of hollowing. I lived in memory. Flipping to each page of our three month tale to find a jump start in inspiration. At times I was surrounded by people and chatter, and I would hit my auto-pilot button, while zooming off into the piece of the past I had collected. 

I wanted crawl back into the tapestry of his cotton skin. When I found myself buzzing in the face of anxiety, I flew to the sound of his voice that lived in the center of calm. When the prickle of loneliness crept up and nestled behind my neck, I dove back into the crook of his arms. When I wanted to run to him I did; letting my lids fall, and our chapters race over me as they came. 

-b

16

Jul

I’m going to take with me the cotton from your skin.

The one that cloaks me.

I’m going to take with me the electricity from your lips.

The one awakens me.

I’m going to take with me the strength from your arms.

And the love they give me.

I’m going to take with me the purity from your eyes.

The one that caged me.

I’m going to take with me a bottle of your words.

To remember how you fed me.

I’m going to take with me the strings from your heart, and the sand from under your nails from where me met. I’m going to take with me the thunder at the end of your tongue and the story we wrote in the cupboard of your ribcage.

I’m going to take with me your spirit tangled in the spirals of your hair.

I wish I could take you with me. 

I wish I could take you with me. 

12

Jun

Pieces of a novel unfinished

Jorge.

People asked me how I could possibly love someone after a mere few days. Awkwardly, I never had an answer. But I knew how, it was just too hard to articulate. When we were in the same room, the air became calm, and the parts of my skin that always felt rigid, began to collapse in comfort. I knew because every thought that poured off of his tongue, I could never drink fast enough. Because I could think as loudly as I wanted around him, and he let me stumble until I excavated every thought. When his were lips on my most wanting flesh, traveling to the area of electric desire, I watched the way his shoulders moved. The elegant muscles of his back, choreographed perfectly; the tangled dance of my beautiful creature. I knew I loved him because all of the wants, and needs, and secrets, I held in the romantic attic of my mind, he echoed back to me; in our strange, and sometimes overwhelming connection. I knew I loved him because even as a writer, and even though we don’t share the same first languag,he some how always had the words for the ones I didn’t. He was perfect in every atom of my vision. He was the feeling of both relief and exhilaration after the first drops of a hot shower. He was the companion for the lonely gaps between my fingers. He was the ocean that crashes with your eardrums, always creating brief moments of delirious ecstasy. The perfect mold against my body. He was home.

-b

21

May

journal rambles

I am living in the cocoon

of a cradle. The tin can

at the end of the string

to your heart. 

Time passes to my looming

demise and I stay still

with the sand in a books

telling spine.

I exhale you, I inhale us.

A world tossed down the alley

towards a tough crowd of pins and I watch the spin.

away we go.

-b

26

Mar

Your lips burn

holes to release

the water in my lungs. 

I am hugged

by the waves of my own purged

silence. 

-b

21

Mar

"Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it, you must take mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it." - Eat Pray Love.

Eat Pray Love

Elizabeth Gilbert