I lost myself in you;
Buttons in the bottom of a boot
Bouncing into rubber walls,
Getting stepped on.
poem
October.
Your arms around mine,
a pumpkin vine—
intertwined;
we grow.
Played.
I press hot fingernails into flesh,
my red venom contrails on your spine.
You strum my softness nimbly—
musically—
I guess that’s why they call it
fingering.
He rubbed
He rubbed me down with coconut oil;
It was supposed to be sexy.
And as hard as he rubbed
I didn’t come
over anymore.
Walk of shame.
It’s almost Halloween.
The neighbors put up those fake spiderwebs
again.
I drop my keys
and get caught up—
How fucking appropriate.
As soon as I untangle myself
from your sheets
I get tangled up in these infernal webs.
I’m just.
trying.
to get home.
Feast.
You greased my lips like olive oil
and opened me up—
peeled back the foil.
You let—my steam—
seep out.
The Cost.
You offered me a ride home
so I didn’t have to take a cab.
I thought it was safe because
I knew you
and you dated
her.
You opened the car door like a gentleman—
(I thought)—
and slapped me firmly
on the ass.
I knew it wasn’t fair
but it was fare:
and that’s how I learned that nothing is free.
I’m sorry [a Haiku].
We sit on the bus,
Your heart says hello to mine,
My mouth says goodbye.
I counted
I counted your lashes
Like they were wishes
And blew them,
Dandelion seeds
Across our universe.
Lie with me.
You closed your eyes:
I didn’t care
you were pretending I was someone else.
I kept mine open:
and prayed to the ceiling tiles
that you wouldn’t fall in love with me;
I wondered
which of us
was really being fucked.
Write Handed Poetry 