Don

In her sleeves drowned
bees drift in freeze dried hair
Someday fear will come
she will not die when it’s fair

When words fester 
chaos can be counted on
to show up dressed as grief
Curled into sleepless nights

under your sleeping bagged eyes
uncomfortably restricted thoughts
tossed dreams against your lashes

As she begins to absorb your passion
clarity and strength
emboldened in hilarity 
honoured to carry you
under her eyes
sleep well
wise friend.

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Arm Hairs

Under the yellow moon
shadows are mistaken for life
our heartbeats set a marching tune
leading us to exposed, fatal heights

We stand on the edge arms raised
palpable darkness arrests our bodies
In alignment without praise 
our  arm hairs whisper love stories

And when they turn to hold eachother
of course  they’re already falling
emboldened by stars as their cover
Like entwined comets exhaling

Grey Binge Poem

Gently
skin fuses to
skin over clothes
halved bodies made for this
moment

inside we’re blown apart
our blood surges wild pushes
ribs to part and our viens
mingle confused and tangled

As we disappear
Around each other
in a moment.

It is sweet

Torture.

To be filled so

After every hello

and every good bye.

Still it Shines

This
quiet confident
impossible permission
to change like rubber
busted with a key or a
spindle left to unravel
reveals a simple middle
still it shines

This
campfire bench
breaths joy in
funny things in
hair holding misery
when life hurls vomit bombs
at our family

This
learns to bike
likes it even as the
frame is hurled in anger
goes off map
in watchful abandon
to win laughter

This
is our love

At the Spa

In a bathtub with the world
less relaxed as I track detached skin
attached to a long dark hair
grey at the root after it collides
an unapologetic bump into my slick bare thigh

Ruffles are smoothed as a flutes echoes through
the artificial falls tempest roar
a glance through the skylight brings a castle
and a stranger in the window watching us
watch each other

winter bodies undressed winter minds
shocked flaccid skin repels
glazed direct stares passive agressive
hunt for used lounge chairs

free fruit, tea and cucumber water
compliment the sour patch kids
hidden in my purse.

It kinda sucks and it could be worse

#thoughtsfromthespa #localsdiscount #icantreallyaffordthis #duh

4am

I go to sleep
guilt free
Oblivious
every single time
I turn out the light
Unaware of the
Impending eruption

4am
Every time
I’m shaken awake
By guilty self-inflicted aftershocks memories
of money spent, booze drank, words said, or unsaid
drenched in shame left to question
Why am I more completely
Myself at 4am?

What if 4am me
Was always awake?
I wouldn’t have bought
That seven dollar juice
For my kids or those
Pink socks which promised
To make me a better runner.

4am me would never have
Drank that last glass of wine
Aware it would erase the rest
Of the night And
She would always know
The right thing to say
especially to that guy I
should have told
To fuck off.

It all seems so obvious
When I’m 4am me.