Tag Archives: relationship

museum of me

you caught me in our closet

again, plucking strands of hair

in the almost dark.

 

I said I was weaving curtains

to keep your mother out,

so you turned on the overhead

bulb and went back to bed.

 

at breakfast you said weren’t hungry

while I hovered around your knees,

sopping up the milk that bled like

canvas paint through the bowl I’d

made from the bits of me I’d been saving.

 

I baptized your spoon and examined

what I’d been leaving behind; five

of my molars formed the handle.

I tossed it in with the other cutlery

and when you left for work you kissed

me goodbye and my jaw fell off.

 

I think you were absentminded when

you put it in your briefcase with your

ballpoint pens and paperwork, and I

was left at home to cover all the mirrors.

 

I think I hid beneath the bed until

heard our screen door open and slap shut.

 

when I emerged all limbs you’d popped

open your case on our bedroom floor,

making a museum of me.

 

and while I reached for every piece

with newspaper hands you sunk

into a nearby chair, clicked on the

lamp and read me every hidden archive.

** I would like to thank WordPress for choosing my poem, a poet to her son, to be Freshly Pressed last week, and to all those who liked, commented, or chose to follow my blog based on that piece: your feedback has been overwhelming. Thank you so, so much. I look forward to making even more writing connections!

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Lucid

 

everything was buzzing with silence

when he

mummified her

in sterile sheets

the ones with the daisies

 

delicate

pinks and purples

his grandmother’s

 

she was lucid

so, so

lucid

she left and his words

rose quietly to her surface

so proudly

 

he knocked the lamp

the one on his side

of the bed

it crashed to the floor like an

amateur marching band

 

she lit up those flowers

like a hundred tiny stars

she sparkled with truth

like the fourth of july

 

he held his own head

like a bowling ball now

he ran to the closet and

locked himself inside

while their

bedroom lit up

like a smoke bomb

 

she freed herself and

blew a kiss towards the closet

good luck

she stepped over the lamp wreckage

closed the door, left him inside

 

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Waves of Actuality

intertwined tree

Your breath is my breath

 

running fingers down bones

you count the whole of me

in pulse, in strings of light

in waves of actuality

 

we read secrets through closed doors

we feel burning buildings in twilight

 

the sirens in your tendons grow

and I am scratching at what no one sees

but I feel you in my blood

 

but I feel you on the backs of my thighs

 

and you are wading through the red

and you scream out, “I am fine”

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“You’re an ass!” – Terms of Endearment

I really might buy this for Joe. He loves Spider Man AND calling me an ass!

I really might buy this for Joe. He loves Spider Man AND calling me an ass!

Don’t get me wrong – this post is filled to the brim with butterflies and hearts and mushy things. Every couple has those sweet little things they whisper to each other, those silly nicknames (I lovingly refer to Joe as Charlie. For an explanation, see the video at the bottom of this post. Even though you may leave more confused.), you know, all that cutesy shit!

Joe and I like to spread our love all over each other by constant torturing. No, not the fun kind (if you’re freaky and consider that fun….) Here, I offer an example. This has been going on all morning.

::I’m downstairs creepin’ on blogs, Joe is upstairs paying bills and doing important things::

::I yell up the stairs:: “I’M HUUUUNNNGGRRRYYYYYY!!!!”

::Joe yells down the stairs:: “Can you wait five minutes? I know you’re starving to death, but I’m doing things that need to be done.”

::I come up the stairs and dramatically lay on the floor in the hallway:: “Oh I forgot, I’m the lazy one! Sorry I can’t go 8 hours with nothing but an air sandwich for lunch.”

::Ignores me:: “I’m paying bills!”

::I get up and stick my face right in his face, blocking the computer screen with my big noggin, kissing him all over his face::

::Joe laughs:: “GET OUT OF MY FACE, YOU ASS!”

::I laugh, too:: “YOU’RE THE ASS!

Joe: “No, YOU are the ASS.”

This went on for quite a while until I slinked back downstairs to eat a piece of cheese, still whining about breakfast and how I always make him dinner and waaaahhhhhh.

– A few minutes later –

::Joe appears downstairs::

::Looks in my cup::

“What’s that?”

Me: “It’s orange juice, ass. No, I’m sorry, it’s VODKA.”

Joe: “Wouldn’t be surprised!”

::I shoot him an evil look::

::He cackles:: (I really need to post a recording of this man’s laugh. It’s contagious, seriously.)

::Creeps in the fridge::

“What’d you buy a whole head of lettuce for?”

Me: “FOR US TO EAT, YOU ASS!”

::I start writing this post, I tell him I found a button I should buy him::

Joe: “What’s it say? ‘I live with an ass’?”

– A few more minutes later – (This literally just happened and I had to throw it in.)

::Joe goes upstairs, into the bathroom::

“What is this coffee ring on the bathroom sink?”

Me: “What are you talking about? The cat did it!” ::giggles::

Joe: “ASS, were you drinking your coffee while takin’ a poop?”

Me: “NO!” (Really, I wasn’t. I swear!)

Joe: “You’re dirty.”

All love, baby. I’m sorry if you don’t find this as hilarious as I do.

Ah, well. Here’s a funny video to make up for it.

Also, a huge thank you to the infamous Edward Hotspur for bestowing me with the Very Inspiring Blogger Award. Follow him, he’s the bee’s knees. (Also, go tell this guy he’s the bee’s knee. He loves that.)

And don’t forget to catch up on this week’s edition of Friday Foolishness!

Have a superb weekend, everyone!

And for the record, I’m just now smelling bacon in the kitchen. What an ass. ❤

 

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