for the asking
my lips curl anxiously and suddenly the announcement comes
sounding like a fire alarm in your bedroom,
i guess i should go,
but this is not the story of how i left
its the story of when i stayed.
our lips rested around poetry
speaking riftless music
above the aching hymns of the violin
so strained beneath our soft, soft sound
what words are these you mean for me?
love is just a vocabulary
a collection of meters, rhymes, and creative licenses,
i am the poet and you the apprentice
and yet, there is no boundaries between fiction and reality,
i am the apprentice and you are the poet.
these words are not ours; these words belong to us.
the imperial bedroom empties and
as i speak like an echo, can i read the next?
your compliance turns to your waiting
for your conquistadora to claim
a poem for her conquer
what do these words mean as they spill from my silence?
boundlessly, i sit.
telling long-winded tales of bloodshed
as though it were the norm,
as though violence were human nature,
i’ve learned to confess my sins aloud.
my lips curl anxiously and suddenly the announcement comes,
sounding