Poem One

I want her to catch me
gawking at the lines on her forehead,
wondering if it was a challenging story or
a lover or just time
that had stamped her so beautifully because
she invades like a ghost and
the only way to get closer is through
these seasoned creases

I want her to hear
my footsteps on hardwood floorboard as
I run through aisle after aisle with
a thousand shelves filled with words
each time she plays them with her teeth because
it sounds like the kind of music
people play on a Monday night
while driving into the mountains and
being carried away by the buoyancy in the air

I want her to notice
the tender and heavy breaths I take when
she’s one kiss on the cheek away,
the kind of breathing pattern a tenth grader would know when
they skip school with their first love to
skip pebbles and watch water ripples expand away them

I want her to laugh at
how my body answers to every inch of her because
she is a teabag and I’m a pot of hot water and
our chemistry is a burst of infusion colours taking flight and
seeping into our veins

I want her to know that
the unfamiliar is not senseless and
a girl writing confessions on thin napkins and
bus tickets that still smell brand new is exactly that and
nothing to be ashamed of;
it is a sin to fall together in the name of life and love but
never hug goodbye

- J

J is a number cruncher with a cat-dog like personality. She thinks about having a restart button to life, but really she's just shuffling though new paths. Eating cold pizza with a good night sky view is her salvation.