TheCourtRose

My love for you is a pinstripe suit when we switch bodies So, you'll have tailored lines and swagger when you return to form My love for you is multiple orgasms and an excellent come-hither stare when you switch into mine (You're welcome, by the way) You promised to protect my skin and bone the way you do not protect your own, and I know that is your love for me I have compassion in cupfuls brimming about the house for you, overflowing in case you should need some on a bad day You fill the bathtub and pour in solitude for me because I never know when to stop and stand still   My love for you is alight with pride and patience, encased in a velvet box, tied around with a ribbon both black and white, and every color in between  This box is right inside the front door of my heart, standing on its own shelf It is within easy reach, not hidden away in backrooms lined in failed romance and aching regrets It is a tiny monument, a testament, that you are...

I know your heart ain't broke A few valves got switched, there are bruises, accumulating scars It's not the same as broken but it hurts, it stings, a paper cut full of lemon oil and sweat But when lips and eyes and hands come to mind, so do you When I think of immortalized time, sensuality and light, you sneak in When I remember long kisses in quiet, deserted buildings, your careful, soft movements flitter in the back door of my brain So, when the cuts are smarting and full of ache When someone convinces you you are anything less than you actually are You've got a brief reminder that they're wrong, that you're luminous and lovely and someone, somewhere, is thinking of you

Are all over my house In a trail of happy glasses, clinking and cluttering up space Photos you insist on printing immeidately are under glasses Magnified and blurry smiles, arms, teeth I'll miss you when you're gone

Heat melting icy bones Can't blame far northern winds for these layers of frost This winter began long ago Believed fallow earth had nothing to produce But its fissured maw is opening, begging for rain Lips of dirt are softening under the thaw, becoming pliant Beneath rivulets of rushing snow, skin is shifting, a belly clenches in hunger Hungry, again Forever Even beneath frozen tundra, hunger waited But how to feed such flesh? How to fill up empty bones and discarded veins? Pour water into cracked, cold earth, for what? A field of flowers on this patch of dirt?  Build a house? Raise a family, to tumble and grow amongst weeds? To what end does this winter end? Pale, breathing flesh uncovered Slushing ice a thin layer between skin and sky To what end?