My poems are entries to my invisible diary.
they scream secrets I’m too afraid to whisper.
relishing in my honesty, they roll inside lost hour glass sand
grazing in memories of words I never said.
i extract them from my womb
birthing all the pain of a still born child in blood torn tissue
and mucus filled with sticky confusions I still don’t understand
i cleanse them with my tears
years spent without a voice, i didn’t have a choice but to stay
So I found dance. Rough callused feet blister in my pain as I prance each demon that hides in the shadows beneath my smiles away
revealing bruises in these stretch marks as I stretch my body into shapes of exulting happiness
and heartbroken tragedy.
dance is my escape
pirouette turns drowning in my tears as I recklessly abandon prison cells kept locked for far too long
Nobody knows the secrets of my heart except for poetry
and nobody sees the secrets in my eyes except when I’m dancing
caught in the essence of a love triangle within myself
dance and poetry, poetry and dance
the loves of my life that do not include a man.
waiting for him to Be my poetry, is like waiting for rain in a drought
so I find fairy tales in my jazz shoes, Dancing my vulnerability in full view without the backlash of being raped in my tears
and write happy endings with my quill pen , in hope that these words will float off of my tongue into silent breezes mingling with fate
for rough hands primed to love me just as much as I love him envelop my body into shattering butterflies
for flowers to sprout from our hearts, into meadows seasoned with the salt water of our tears and the sunshine in our smiles
for a voice
a voice drowned in second chances
intoxication and euphoria interlocking in our kisses
when the physical love of my life appears, I 'll write him love poems and dance him symphonies for every guy who left me slaughtered in crime scenes of loving a little bit too hard.
as long as he cancels out the expiration dates carved in my heart,
i'll patch the gashes left in my soul for falling a little bit too much
and taste the bravery on my tongue as I continue to make love to my words
thrust myself into the depths of my poetry's fragrance
i will climax while dancing to rhythms complete with ecstasy that caress my skin until I shape my limbs, transform my body into music I never knew the words to
I will whisper his name against paper,
tattoo his voice inside the lines of my spine and drink the ink until I choke on his presence
until his essence regurgitates out of my mouth into a soliloquy of complicated cursive erupting in my notebook
overflowing the pages,
truth seeping out of the folds, traveling through my pen to my torn fingertips,
awakening my blood pulse until I am dancing in love again.
These words are my life line, oxygen mask in heart-ached gas chambers blended in steps of determination.
when I find him. . .
He will be my poetry
and I, his favorite dance.