valentine's day is all year

I am fourteen again when my boyfriend of four years tells me that I am "the bomb."
A "munchkin bomb," to be exact, because I apparently resemble an exploding donut... or midget. Maybe I am just a small bomb?

I haven't figured this out yet.

Yes, he says, I am the bomb. I am cool. I am Cute. He likes my smile, and I'm the entire package. The entire explosive package. And I hold his hand, mine.

I don't know what a "munchkin bomb" is, and I've decided not to ask. I like his clever pet names; endearing and sweet. Nonsensical, no doubt, but isn't love, sometimes?

divorced

my definition of forever changed when you said goodbye. we all did, really.
to normalcy. to comfort. to old expectations.
we all did.

I didn't think we'd be here forever, not really. But part of me wanted to.
stay embedded warm comforts of home. soak in the laughter of elation-- if only for a little while longer.

time is such a bitch, we've always said that. thrust upon us without warning, and "here, you deal."

I guess we will, somehow. In our own, separate ways.

and though I was prepared for forever, time seems slower now that you're gone. Now that we all are.

indebted

sometimes, I think,
this was all made for me.

In my moment of selfishness the world blooms immodestly before me;
For a moment I believe I deserve it.
it's a longish moment that sets time ablaze,
and I am just in awe.
I unfold like spring,
born anew.

asking nothing, I'm handed the world.
Here, digest,
but chew slow.

I will.

harvesting season

you
are my forbidden fruit
golden delicious.
a tantalizing torture:
innocence
and sin
embedded within.

a tango of seduction
ripe skin waiting,
ready to be plucked

dangle before me
and we will entangle,
entwined.
you are a
succulent
debauchery.

I will
drink
you in like a deep breath,
devour you whole
and you will be mine
until there's none left.

a memory

I was the fat kid.
I remember that.
Thick plastic glasses
and lopsided, home-cut bangs.
and fat. Always
fat.
Pigpink cheeks and fleshy fingers
like plump German sausages
burrowed in my
saline soaked sheets.

I cried
I remember that.
Puffed emerald eyes
swollen
with the prickling sting
of invectives,
a buffet of wounds
that ravaged a
breadcrumb
trail through my childhood.

I am the fat kid
I can't seem to forget it.

self fulfilling prophsey

I've created this shell
--my own personal hell--
it prickles and burns
but
I wear it close;
cuddle up
until I suffocate under the
weight
of my own gravity.
I love this depravity.
I've grown to know the pain,
old friend.
I laugh
and I laugh,
and they join me.

fruitful

i love a peach.
peaches:
to have a gardenful
of
perfect
delicious peaches.

their papery skin
whispers a juicy secret to my mouth.
an offering.

But I shop for them--
I hate that.

here they are
piled carelessly under fluorescent lights
just wilting.
and bruised,
all of them,
so fragile.

I'll find one
a beautiful orangeyellow
one...
not perfect.

but juicy.
sweet imperfection
let it

d r i p

down

my

chin.