Sometimes

Sometimes I feel like if I write enough stories I can write myself alive. Write myself a life. Right myself for life.

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Write for Me

I’ve never been one for plotting outlines or charting character arcs. I’m a writer, not a planner, which, ironically, is my poetry and my pain-point.

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Complicit

I became complicit
in my own consumption

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Frozen Strawberry

I never meant for you to know me, never meant to let you in.

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wet

I’ll be your
favorite story

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Window

Would you lay
in bed with me on a
lazy Sunday morning

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Up-skirt 2

I’ve bathed in the light of a brilliant moon

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the real you

I wonder if you’re
standing down
or sitting up

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Up-skirt

My heartbeat picked up as I felt a light touch against the outside of my soul.

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nameless woman


already madness moves its mouth
to cover half my soul, its breath like
a snowstorm, making my world cold

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Inside Out

Simply fucking
is not enough

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Tying Her

I circle her slowly as my hands unwrap the rope. She’s wearing jeans and an olive green bodysuit with a fabric/mesh combo up top, no bra. I notice the subtle movement of her neck when she swallows and let myself savor the anticipation radiating from her.

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Brilliantly Realigning

I like the shape of my water bottle after a run —crumpled in the corners where my grip was, like I was holding on for life, or something.

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The Rope

The rope is therapeutic
something new to get lost in
something else to make my
heart race and my soul
a little less restless

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I do love things

Like exploring the texture of things —I love touching things, touching things and tapping into sensations.

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I can’t wait

I can’t wait to climb on top again
I can’t wait to wrap my fingers
around it and hold on tightly.

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Face My Face

I need to go to the mirror
and look at myself

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Let pleasure find me

After the group call I meant to do guided yoga, but my body had designs of its own.

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At Galaxy’s Edge

It will hurt
One can’t be sure how badly
Certainly, it will be

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