I. Two poets fall in love, and that’s when it gets ugly.
II. We go to dinner. You order the wine, red and burning, and it goes down like blood. We start with Shakespeare, move to Plath. You use alliteration to tell me that I’m ripping out your lungs with my metaphors, and I counteract with a hyperbole, say you’ve clogged my arteries with your similes. Don’t touch me with your dictionary, I want to say. Touch me with your hands.
III. The appetizers arrive. Bread as soft and brown as the flesh of your neck. Move to Emerson. Ask about God. Was Jesus this soft and brown? My Bible never told me about the strength in your apricot arms, your chestnut knuckles, this most divine truth resting under your skin. Move to Whitman. I envy the grass that licks your neck when you tumble down hills and watch the clouds. Touch me with your hands.
IV. The main course is a fawn’s heart seasoned with autumns and breaking. I eat more than you do. Move to Rilke. Write letters. When I tell you about the words, you say that you will die for ink and paper: I want you to break my neck. Move to Allen. Kiss the sunlight. Ask to live. Touch me with your hands.
V. Dessert is your mouth at three a.m., pulled over to the side of an empty, dark highway. Tell me you love me and it goes down like blood. Kiss my hip and it feels like dying. Don’t touch me with your dictionary. Touch me with your hands.
my sister wants me to meet her at a bar
that has the word booze in its name (and)
I’ve already had two.five glasses of wine
on an empty stomach with an ex-boyfriend
whom I still love but the way (you) love a
dog or a brother or someone who will care
for (you) unconditionally or so (you) hope
(and) isn’t this how it always goes: me,
half-lit off cheap wine like the nineteen-
year-old I still think I am (and) aren’t I
over this dance: the waltz of the eternally
wandering, the skip and shuffle to what-
ever beat is heartbeating loud enough to
catch (you)r attention (and) hopefully (you)
'll never notice how I watch (you)r mouth
while (you)’re speaking (and) hopefully
(you) will never notice that I love (you)
madly like the diseased, shaking, foaming
at the mouth, (and) I will never let (you)
see me like this like this tonight I’d like
to see (you) I’d like to see (you) see (you)
let me see (you) like this.
- Sierra DeMulder
sometimes i wish people knew my tumblr existed, because i really think it’s the best representation of myself online. but then i always realize that’s a horrible idea for the exact same reason.
Twenty-five days into my changeover as Chief Justice, and there’s already a freshman transport at the first major party.
thanks for :
regardless of how the senior meeting goes, i’ve had the loveliest roommate i could have asked for the past two years and look forward to our third year together. <3