National Poetry Month 2021

After this dream, where we send off our hearts on a string

I watch you melt into me, but only slightly—love isn’t meant to be shown

it is meant only for moments of great pastures spread, bodies rotting underneath a swaying tree, as a marbled Angel nearby sings us all to sleep

It cost so much to find a plot to look forward to, how do you convince yourself

that knowing is not as important as dying?

An open casket celebration plays the sobs I never quite pushed out, afraid of all the afterbirth of its intensity

How do we live while living?

How do we see while sinning?

The composer adds all necessary notes, 

and follows it with a silence 

a delicacy of last breaths and last apologies

unspoken, given through gifts and strange hugs in the warmth of the sun

I am dirty with shame and immaculately pristine in my dismay

I am sad in a majestic way, where there’s no ritual or modesty, a train leaves while I’m standing there, next to all I’ve tried to never be

The backs of necks soft with age, hairless and quivering tempt me to return to the insides of my pain, the viscera of where growth begins, to think you carried me inside you and that now, I am five foot three

You were a hellion firebrand when I looked up your dress and sucked on your tits, 

a beast of sweat and laughter

I am the brew of what you fed, 

of what you never gave

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