I get it now

More time to think

but overthinking less

because now these seconds

aren’t wasted

can’t be wasted

because I have so much

so little time here

so I savour each moment

and make each second taste bitter

from sitting too long on my tongue

I allow my mind to flutter

to less beautiful thoughts

to find peace

and perfection

I get it now

‘Battle of Love’ by Pablo Picasso

These entangled lines have secrets

that lurk in the creases

of the bubbled bodies

that bend and fold

around bed and bedpost

Is this desire, really?

or is this stylish rape

embellished with paints

a ‘love’, you say?

between who?

between victim and beast

is that a leg? or arm?

or is that insides coming out

not so glamorous anymore

 

Is this art, now?

Is this art?

 

More sunburn

My velvet bruise

turns crimson

in the salty sun’s

summer stain

and my body crumbles

because it is used

to kinder temperatures

when the sky isn’t so cruel

and does not try to infect

my freckled

speckled skin

and make me ash

buttered up

and battered

 

He told me he loved me

He told me the other day

but I was laughing

and using my laughter to fill my ears

to block noise or notion

body and motion

and his truth

that I pretended was a joke.

 

But now,

now I am thinking clear

and my ears are empty

body clean

and I can hear him

or a memory of him

and he tells me I am cruel and unkind

to ignore him

and all I want

is to be kind

Depth 1m

Depth 1m

is enough

for me

to duck and shallow

my body

submerged

and suffocated

blood pauses

confused

and questions the heart

who rests for a moment

and ponders life like this…

but the brain is one step ahead

translating

and telling me to resurface

so I lift my skin

and my body follows

to find air again

miserable air

Sun burn

Because our pale legs

prove more prominent

does not mean we are less real

or human?

Because life is ‘pretty’

And last time I checked

This flesh was living

had a pulse

and bruised

hard

and blue

and pink

bluer and pinker than you

and wider

more clearly pained

Humming

It is a grumble,

round rumble,

hard tone

tune

deaf

rolling

and dropping

spinning

and tumbling

of la and ooh

and repetitive

word-fumbling

in my head?
maybe not…

Why today?

Why today

why do I miss that bristle brush

rush

of love

push

push and shove

fighting

playing

and your smell

as well

it burns

in my memory

on my tongue

and in my lungs