I am the white curtain,
you are the light
that passes through me—
without stopping.
self
Dinner [a Haiku].
We sit in silence,
You poke at peas with a fork,
I know we are done.
Wine and words.
October has been so uncharacteristically warm
on this blueblack night
tangled in reeds
and blankets on the beach,
salt spray and moon milk pouring over us;
words
fall from our mouths
as easily as the wine flows in;
sentences
punctuated by tannic kisses.
Burn, baby
You said you wanted someone to make you feel alive,
I wont apologize
for setting you on fire.
Phases.
I go through phases—
like the moon;
I think our love
is waning.
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.
Write Handed Poetry 