sweet things

how it poured today, as we sat on that terrace, like we only got out of wombs to stare at the rain. it's our favourite thing, we chorused.
and later when we walked for some frozen yogurt, there were little puddles to navigate. we skipped, hop-skipped.
with you, i become a little girl again.

you're gone, but...

even this silence

is punctuated

with the wrangling

between you and i

-- inside my head

come back and interrupt this quiet for real.

i cannot live with you

and like our favourite poet put it,
"we must meet apart"
you here,
me there--
with just so much
in-between

http://www.thinkstockphotos.com/CMS/StaticContent/WhyThinkstockImages/Best_Images.jpg

in bed

i get terribly lonely in bed sometimes. and it isn't about sex. it's just about how i've spent year after year, not knowing how it feels to have to share my bed. summers are sticky. but maybe some days and some nights, there's comfort to be found in the feel of another warm body next to yours.

My gypsy love, like coffee...

bitter-sweet,
bitter-sweet

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzsV4WMGmG4

where?

where will i find evidence
of the time
you've loved me too?

where is the air still damp
with our breathing,
alloyed only in want?

 by Joseph Pitcher

just

again, i've woken up from my own ashes
of intoxication--
of wanting to believe your can fall asleep like that
and tell the world
look, i have control over my own life, you don't

this is how i break free of you
drown myself every day
in vanity--
i will.
i am.