I want to bake some

fallin’ in love pie. swallow each bite,

feel it warm in my mouth, warm in my chest

then warm in my stomach, no space

left

just

a warm pink glow about my skin

a nice and slow spread-

ing of it, nice and

slow

it’s a good feeling to have, a good

feeling to have in your lungs –

heaving, even

just as long as they’re

breathing

even

won’t have to pull my sleeves anymore

won’t have to hold my need, won’t

have to scratch my skin anymore

won’t

have a

need

wantingly be, all of the time








what can I do?

i am no simple, nor am i 

plain, just a little shine and some

dull areas but that's okay

i have enough lace to wrap myself in and 

feel perfectly fancy for the rest of my life

how easily the un-ease slips, scary how well I know it now, an old etcetera met with an almost-warmth because it is so much a part of my own body, a familiarity, that is, familiar in my own skin, just a swimming in my gestures. just a shift every so often, for I have not settled. just a bird perched in the center of my chest and I cannot open it --

I have been 

interrupted and re-visited with no 

                  memory of how I 

                  began. 

sc

today i fell in love with every face that didn't look away when we made eye contact, godjust lean down and (stoopinglike stone arches) lay heavy kisses that ground me so, just so i can stretch my toes and my neck through and pulling every nerve to it's end just
kiss you, too