Written while listening to that song “Green Grass” by Cibelle

 

You crackle in the old fireplace

 

An eternal internal heat polishes the glow from you

I have rediscovered fire by remembering you. Dreaming.

Your smoke, a cocktail of  whatever drugs are most addictive

holds me curled there on bear skin in my bare skin, lying naked in wanting and warmth

Curled there huffing in the smoke, shivering on the high

But sweating you out at the  exact same time

I’d wished for you for years.

Girl on park benches writing soggy poems that cried and  tore as wet paper often does

Girl in cafeteria pining instead of eating, laughing at things not funny

Girl on auto pilot passing boy on football team…inhaling that effervescent  scent, curls into herself later

By the fireplace, with the laced embers. Huffing. Shivering. Jonesing. Warm.

I miss the detrimental loves like you.

The experimental mental exercises in desire.

Number one on the star…the first thing that’s ever stopped my heart.

Loving you was

A Pain

and pinch like losing my virginity…a stretch a stretch a stretch

That made me beg you to stop

But how could you know how cruel nature had made you?

Your angelic movement was an inadvertent hymn to me

A litany of where to rest my eyes and where my mind ought to wander

Forever under your footsteps

I needed you. Not in the way you think

Just to pay attention to the torture, you with the sharpened axe and hazel eyes

Averted and distracted as you killed me.

Day by day. Your face was cold steel in my mouth and your smile

God, your smile

was the gangster forcing me into Russian roulette.

I blamed you for not understanding the knot you’d tightened around my wrists.

Or the noose.

Blind to the ball gag in my mouth

Oblivious to the obvious captivity

I’ve since wondered where your limbs have found you

What angle of the sun finds your skin,

What constellation wraps itself about your view

when you step outside to see the moon

Wondered…what it would feel like to long for what we once had

Ask you to recall your love for me so, barefoot, we could catch flying things

and try to understand how the air catches their wings

But your crackle and that smell reminds me

That this curling I do beside you every now and then

Is the closest I’ve ever been to you…or the sun

Stare at it’s obesity and possibility and brilliance…heat…its passion…my desire to touch it

for too long

and I will go blind again.