When you come.

I imagine myself intact.

With every piece fitting in just right. The color of my skin hiding beneath the gushing of my blood. The beating only evident if you could notice my pulsating chest. I scream silently and in that moment there is a silence that is loud enough to shatter glass. Loud enough to deafen the questions you ask and the lies that you so evidently crave to understand.

I imagine myself intact.

With all my hair in place and the creases of my clothes stretched to perfection. My eyes turning in, to hide. Your lips make no movement even if they do because my ears shut the noise out.

I imagine myself intact.

No heavy breathing or loud cries, just a warm pretense. I imagine myself intact,

when you come.


A love poem for a stranger.

Should I call you that?                            


I tell myself I should                              

because what I’ve fallen for                          

is an image of you in my head;                    

an image of you I have created;                  

I have nurtured,                                

shamelessly, with love.                                

That is why I fear to tell you

I love you.                                            

 because I fear, at what might happen,      

and it’s not just about you saying                

that you’ll never understand this.            

It’s about discovering parts of you              

I haven’t yet imagined.                                  

I haven’t yet feared.                                    

It’s about discovering our differences that from a distance seem so trivial.          

It’s about discovering you                              

don’t want to be loved by a woman.          

It’s about discovering that our walls        

are built too strong to break.                  

It’s about discovering that my love

for you is a game I play alone                              

with myself.                                                

That there is more to you                            

than I can ever imagine,                            

that you have dreams too that you chase,

love that you crave.                                      

And in that moment all I can offer you      

is my friendship,                                              

my trust,                                                         

but from a distance.                                      

Because I’m too embarrassed to break          

in front of your

pretty face.



Words on paper soft as your skin

Visit me with their warmth at night

When all the jaded brightness

Disappears and leaves these

Fateful scars behind; I hide when

In waiting, scared I’ll lose those sweet

Summer rides that we made our own

With paper as soft as your skin

And the red of my shin and other

Bruises alike, that like our longing

For each other, left its mark in the

Strangest of places to find; Now,

I send my scent to you in reply.