the other things

sure,

you tell me

you love me

and

say it

at the right times,

somehow

knowing when i

need to hear it,

and yeah,

you’ll give

me a kiss

when you walk

through the door

knowing

i need to feel

your angelic softness

to calm my anxiety

from a day

of fabricated stress,

and it’s true,

you’ll wrap your

flawless body

around me

in the morning

when we

wake and

open our

dream weary

eyes next

to one another

caffeinating me

with your

electric touch,

but

it’s when

you hold

and comfort

my

mangled, butchered

feet and legs

when you’re

not thinking

about anything else,

and when

you rub my head

with your uneven

nails

as we watch

mindless television

(what’s new on Netflix?)

and when

you fix me a

sandwich

seasoned with

ingredients borne

from love

when I don’t even

know I need to eat –

it’s those

things,

the intangibles

embedded

within the

tangibles,

that mean

the world to me,

and it’s why

I’ll love you

forever.

 

-JDR-

a distinct smell and vague memories

waking up to

lipstick stains

on my sheets

(and other places),

i don’t notice

the aroma of

cheap wine

and

smoked substances

that are

soaked in the walls

and air conditioner filter

until my return

from an unsuccessful

trip for fresh water;

where’d you go?

were you even here?

traces of your presence

are outlined in my bed,

which i slowly

retrace with my fingertips.

scant memories begin

to reveal themselves:

veins pulsating in your

exposed neck –

head tilted back –

bottom of your

chin to the ceiling,

eyes rolled back in your head,

both your hands on the

back of my head

gripping the

suffocating product

in my hair,

contributing to the

uncontrollable shaking

between your thighs,

blood rushing to

all the zones

where blood doesn’t

even flow (adding some

color to your light skin

and new words to your

first, second,

spoken, and

unspoken languages).

yeah, i’m pretty sure

you were here;

question is:

why aren’t you here right now?

perhaps drinking another

bottle of cheap wine

and smoking a packed pipe

will enlighten me;

besides,

what else do I have to do,

except continue,

to think

about

you.

-JDR-

Pillow cases

I can’t write you a

short poem

or enough words to fill a

138 page novel

but I can write you something

half of that

but

much less.

I didn’t see you

enough today

in my mind,

or in person,

or in my bed.

a glancing smile

won’t do anymore;

I need your

snoring, drooling,

unmasked

face on my pillow

every morning,

especially if I’m

ever to

write something

meaningful about you.

-JDR-

aftershocks

your tongue envelopes

me like

tsunami tidal waves;

everyone should run for cover.

 

the crest of your lips crash

on my lustful heart;

my emotions run for shelter.

 

the arch of your back

breaks the barrier

I built for my heart.

 

gripping the roots

of your hair

for dear life

only intensifies

the situation.

 

my depression can’t handle

the transfer of energy

you’re hurling at

my fragile self.

 

the aftershocks have

me booking one-way

tickets on stolen

maxed-out

credit cards.

 

there’s no return from you;

lifeboats are deflated,

I’m hoping to drown in the riptide,

so i can die on a high note.

 

-JDR-