I miss poetry

I miss poetry 
In the way I miss cheez-its with salsa and melted cheese
Something so gross its pleasurable like the 
Feeling of the Queen’s crop upon my ass as I beg for more. 
I miss the way it moves in my mouth, 
Poems of Poe, Frost, Whitman, Shakespeare, Cummings, and Angelo
Setting of a mental orgasm that leaves me quaking and trembling unable 
To form any word other than fuck because my mind has been blow
To the fifth circle of Niverna, the way a good joint and 
Vinyls of AC/DC leave you boneless during long Indian Summers 
As you think, life can not get better than this. 

I miss poetry
I miss it in the way I miss church
A place of comfort, a home, a place were words were 
Unjudged and scripted as they flew off the tongue to 
Hang in the air swaying back and forth like a hung man 
Condemned to always stay there. 

I miss poetry
In the way I miss my ex friends
Recalling the better times that we had only to be torn 
Apart by stupidity and hormones. 

But most of all, 
I miss poetry because its something I can’t
Ever let go off. 

Advertisements

Outsider

I do not belong.
The bright colors of laughter taunt me
As I shuffle through the day, tones of gray
Clouding vision and mind, leaving a mono-shaded world
That I trudge through.

I have never belonged.
Always on the outside, watching as people
Dashing by, weaving connections into a warm blanket
Leaving me to shiver in loneliness

Outsider, outcast,
Unsure how to belong,
Unsure if I truly wish to belong,
The inner me, hidden like a changing caterpillar
Always covered in masks and costumes,

Ever changing always hiding,
Outcast, through and through,
I wonder if I’ll truly belong.

Love

“I love you”
Words that are celebrated fill me with dread
I wonder if she really means it
If this is just a game,
Another round of target practice for those
Wondering how easy it’ll be to add another crack.

She senses fear, gently coaxing my hands into hers
Grounding me in this storm of doubt that batters my soul,
Gentle words and touches soothe the abused wolf within
Beginning to trust the beautiful woman who loves me with all her heart.

As she repairs my soul, I whisper the words back to her gently
Binding my heart to hers with the bound of mate.
“I love you” I whisper, full of trust tempered by pain,
” I love you.” I promise to try to be the woman she needs with these words

Because I love her.
As much as she loves me.