The culture of womynhood is exhausting.
Some days it is so hard to forgive you. I have a deep, burning hate. A hate so firey I must hold my chest from bursting, bite my tongue from stinging, sit on my hands to prevent writing words that I demand you hear. So I spin in place to concentrate on my feet.
They spin. The wheels in my head that Love runs on spin backwards. Towards you. For it is not fear from experience, but insufficient trust that enlightens my skepticism.
You spin like a DJ. Your promises on repeat. Your kinship on the playlist. Upcoming: heartbreak. Unhappiness sounds like a rock song and a lullaby, and the sound of your breath when you speak.
So I spin for forgiveness. A destination in absolutely nothingness. A clear head and a full heart. A white noise in empty air. Heart heated, but not overwhelmed. Tongue crisp but not sharp. Hands float free in lightness. And my body unmistakably quirky in freedom of the spin.
Shift your suit
Put on your smirk,
You leave the White House
Already in a hearse.
Whispers as we wait
In the shadows for our fate.
Right before dawn,
There’s an empty slate.
The sun finds the sky heavy to push through
The minutes drag along,
Our clocks now tick to the beat of an off drum.
We whisper as we wait
For dawn tomorrow
Cold winter wind,
Remind me of my fingertips.
To pay attention to every detail of my body, my soul, and their intuitions. Remind me to touch with grace, lift with love and know when to stop beating a broken drum.
Cold winter wind,
Be the ripples on the sand and make the unknown appear so fast. Blow a leaf in my hair and let it whisper in my ear. Tell me good tidings of Spring and wild Winter things.
Cold winter wind,
Shake and ache my bones until I know that no one ever grows alone. Teeth chattering, ears numb, my breath reminding me of my lungs. Deep warmth from within while I carry a silver sin.
Seal me in, cold winter wind.
Hybernate my body to cleanse it from a heavy, dirty toll and transform it into a newly formed version of your solid, sturdy soul.
Do I dream?
These moments, still.
Reels produce highlights of a mostly foggy film.
Am I awake?
a nightmare collection
Of the year I possessed all my womanly affectations.
My country torn, my body worn, a pleased possession of a man with scorn.
Do I dream
All these images
Of a nightmare collection?
I sold your past yesterday.
How dare I remove the magic it once gave.
A tender warmth, a blessed kiss
More true to you than any persons.
Material bliss, externally burdoned
By the weight of your past wrapped in a blanket of certain.
Found and forgiven, our love was never over and it never shall be. I vow to keep you company in distant thoughts and darkest nights. In all that is restored, renewed, and what remains, my love will stay true. Even when I don’t want it to. I have become an Alpha and your pulse syncs to mine. We are intertwined. More than what we can control, we circle in a force too strong to deny. Eternity begotten. Eternally one.
She sat crying at the red light.
Eyes unable to contain themselves. She was finally in a safe space to let it out. Release.
Slowly her eyes drifted up and through the wavering lenses of her tears, she made eye contact with a stranger in the neighboring car.
He was familiar with the look. Hurt. He attempted a consoling jesture but reached for a smile.
She picked up all her strength and her strongest characteristic — and smiled back.
Pat your knee and command me to sit. Tell me everything will be okay and that I’m safe here. I can trust you. Trust in the way your hands snake up my skirt. Breathe when your cold breath enters my ear. Stay calm as your caress. Smile.
“Who are you?” I ask.
Who knows? Just believe me and forget all your woes.
Tie me into rhymes and stories of your lies. Tango to the beat of your speech even when it’s rye. You’re too smooth, so perfect in your eyes that I step on your feet, then you look at me, repulsed – “How could you be so flawed?”
“Bu-but… I –” …There is no excuse.
I cannot dance on tiptoes above broken glass and cannot give what I do not have. You walk away coldly and leave me on the floor with blood in the cuts of many open sores.