It wasn’t fair, the way he made me feel. How he could turn me inside out, upside down, left and right and leave me feeling cold and empty. He hid himself from me in a way that made me feel isolated no matter how much love I gave him. I could talk to him as frequently as I liked and it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing mattered because he couldn’t come out of his shell. He was afraid, which I knew, but I hated him for it.

He was a coward dressed in the confidence of a prince. Pride flowed from his lips and slipped from his fingers, shone from his eyes. But beyond all that was a small child sitting in a place dark and lonely. I didn’t know who or what had hurt him, but he was fighting fiercely to protect himself. I could do anything for him and nothing would be enough to open the door. So I chose to hate.

I spoke of his flaws. I hate the way he feels so entitled! How unorganized he is! He’s so ignorant, so condescending! But I was hiding just as much. Hiding my love that I didn’t want to admit I could have. And maybe that was exactly what he was doing. Maybe he wasn’t hating me, but he was fleeing from feelings and locking them in. He didn’t want to see them escape, see the consequences.

So maybe we were the same. You’re supposed to dislike the people most like yourself, so I guess that was me. Maybe that was us.

Because no one else could change the world in the way you would. No one else would know to give the homeless lady on the street corner a granola bar every Friday on your way home from work. No one else would text your mom funny gifs at least once a day. No one else would stand up to the rude professor of your Intro to Biology course. There is no one else who can be you.

Hunger strikes on a bright and sunny day,

When the mouth laughes and the smile still shines.

Ignorant to her churning cloud of gray,

Until down came rain and silent confines.

The pretty plates were small and the portions weak,

Stains of her stomach splattered toilet bowl,

Perhaps help was sought and the pain was leaked,

But I missed the signs, and so slipped her soul.

The skinny legs and the skeletal hands,

I thought it not true, not for you, not you.

But the mind I so shamefully command,

It smiled, it said "fine," bypassed the clear clue.

So when her clothes come off and thighs are thin,

I pray one day she will lover her own skin.

#sonnet #shakespeareansonnet #poetry #rhyming

His skin is the silk sheets I want to sleep in,

My cheek gently on his as we rest.

Limbs wrapped around limbs,

Hands reaching for more, always more,

My soft breast against his smooth chest--

Nothing goes untouched.

I know every bump on his body,

Every curve, every shadow.

I trace lines on his skin through the night,

Drawing invisible reminders,

Feelings he won’t forget when the sun rises.

He listens to my heart in his dreams,

And I wonder what it is he hears.

To me it is blue, to him, something true.

And so with him, I sleep.

#romance #night #love #relationship

I worry that they will see me. Two cars pass by, splashing water from their tires. The rain touches my sweater and marks it dark gray. I am not alone here.

I turn around and go back in the house, but the need still inside me. I need the rain. I need it.

I wander through the house, wondering where I will find my solitude. The porch doors are before me. I open them, and step out.

The rain comes whooshing at me, powerful and calm. It has no evil in it, just the force of nature. It is balanced. My sweater darkens some more as it slowly is taken over by the rain. The back yard is breathtaking. I see the mushrooms in the grass, their layers steeply defined, like an artist drew them. The leaves and grass and moss are green as the rain is drunken in, as they are nourished and mothered.

I look back inside the house. Will my sister see me? No. I tilt my head up to the overcast sky and feel the rain as it splatters on my face, in one place and then another. I squint and tense my face, but it hurts when drops land in the corners of my eyes, so I wipe them away and look forward again. I close my eyes and hear the sssssssshhhhhhh of the rain hitting everything around me. It is not enough yet.

My feet are covered by sneakers and socks that reach the bottoms of my calves. They are missing the glory. A bit quickly, I remove my shoes and peel off my socks, which are already wet. I place my feet on the puddles that have formed on top of the wood porch floor and relief floods through me as the water seeps between my toes and licks my heels.

But I still need more.

To my left, there are orange stairs of the same wood leading down to the ground. My eyes look for spiders, but I know somehow that there will be none. I climb over the dog gate blocking the enterance and descend to the ground, feeling the water that has collected on each step caress my feet. When I reach the bottom, the stone plates are cold, but this awakens me. Here there is more water and the puddles are deeper. Bits of dirt float in them and settle on my skin. The grass is inches away and popping in color.

I look up to the corner between the side of my gray house and a tall hedge where I know a spider resides. I see it in its web, its jet black body and stubby legs. It is here, just as I am, in the rain. Just here. I turn back to the grass and decide that it will be alright. There are no threats today. Not right now.

I step into the greenery. The tips of the growth touch the bottoms of my feet first before they settle and sink a little into the water pooling atop the grass and dirt. For a moment, I stare at the ground watchfully, but then I look straight ahead, trusting the earth. I am level with the bushes and the trees now. We are rooted in the same soil.

Something touches my foot, and I know before looking that it's not a blade of grass. A dull pang of fear rises in the back of my mind, and I shift my gaze down. It's...a worm.

Before I know what's happening, the corners of my mouth pull up and my jaw opens. Sound is released and it startles me that I am laughing. I take a step back onto the stone slabs and grin.

"Hi," I say, a smile in my voice.

The long, narrow worm slithers through the grass quickly, the same way a slippery noodle is slurped.

"Good to see you," I say as it hurries away, wherever it's headed.

Satisfied, I retreat and climb up the stairs, over the dog gate and back to the porch. A drop of water slides down the center of my back, and a shiver runs through me. I look down at my sweater and see that very little is still dry. Mom will be home soon. I should change. But first, I must thank.

"Arigatoogozaimashita. Arigatoogozaimashita."

They are the first words that surface in my head. I inhale deeply, then reluctantly reenter the house and shut the porch doors. My dog stands inside, waiting for me. The air is warmer, and for the first time, I realize that I am chilly.

I don't make much of an effort to dry my feet on the rug by the doors, and don't think about cleaning later when the water marks the floor where I walk. When I reach the bathroom, I look at myself with the lights off at first. Then with them on.

The water makes my hair sparkle in the light, drips down my face on the side of my nose. My skin looks dewey and more youthful than ever. My eyes are bright, alert. I hold out my arms to observe my damp sweater, but it's more than damp--it's soaked. Yet a couple spots along the insides of the arms and the sides of the torso have managed to stay dry. I rub the white parts across the rest of my sweater, trying to mix them with the rainwater. Then I peel off the sweater and touch my arms. I am pleased to find that they are wet even though I'd worn the sweater. I ball up the pullover and am about to put it in the laundry bin, but I don't want to part with the rain in it. I stand there for a moment with it in my hands, turning it over. I remove my shorts, which are less wet, and put them in the laundry. Somehow, my underwear is dry, but my gray bra is not. I look back at the sweater, and decide that the rain has touched me. As I dry, it will be in the air in the house. Over time, the rain will leave, but for now, it is here and within me.

Hey, you're not here and I'm starting to wonder,

Have you ever loved me?

Could alcohol be you cover?

Will you leave and flee?

Its bitter taste,

The drunkenness that tears,

The stumbling nights late,

The mindless affairs,

The memory less painful than the headache,

The headache that comes with morning,

Or is it afternoon that you finally wake?

You wouldn't bother learning.

Will you press on?

I'm your only girl,

My childhood almost gone,

Will you give your drink a swirl?

Soon I'll be traveling about,

I don't have time to waste,

Your chance as mother is running out,

If you love me, act with haste.

Took my dog, did you say?

I like games, so I'll play.

I'll peel off your skin,

Then laugh with a grin,

And watch my girl eat the buffet.