Growing up and old and away.
Dear 19,
I like odd numbers so I like you already. We will be just fine, you and I. We have one whole year to figure each other out. I will work on loving you as I work on loving the sad person in the mirror. You will teach me new things and I will let you. I will take you dancing with the waves of the ocean. I will take you all over New York City this wintertime. There is loudness in my mind and it is cheering you on. Soon, I will take your hand and show you what is really in my mind and how I am able to bear the thumping and screaming inside. You are three minutes old now, and long day that it was, I am going to cradle you to sleep.
*
Clouds
I like smoking indoors because I can dance longer with the clouds. I leave the TV on but I don’t watch or listen, there are only pictures behind the smoke, a companion to the quiet subtlety. It sort of climbs out of my throat, my mouth, hugging my lips closely as it passes by. I can never make it out because it is not real. Sometimes though, it appears as if I can touch it, like a face with lips that feel like it is kissing mine as I exhale. Like it doesn’t ever want to leave me.
Dalliance
Your hand against my thighs feels like rain. It travels so well, going to places I didn’t know were there in my own body. Lips that taste of rosebuds plant roses on the sides of my neck, down my throat, planting secrets all over my shoulders. Your other hand down my back, they write me stories I’ve only been told as a girl.
I like odd numbers so I like you already. We will be just fine, you and I. We have one whole year to figure each other out. I will work on loving you as I work on loving the sad person in the mirror. You will teach me new things and I will let you. I will take you dancing with the waves of the ocean. I will take you all over New York City this wintertime. There is loudness in my mind and it is cheering you on. Soon, I will take your hand and show you what is really in my mind and how I am able to bear the thumping and screaming inside. You are three minutes old now, and long day that it was, I am going to cradle you to sleep.
*
Clouds
I like smoking indoors because I can dance longer with the clouds. I leave the TV on but I don’t watch or listen, there are only pictures behind the smoke, a companion to the quiet subtlety. It sort of climbs out of my throat, my mouth, hugging my lips closely as it passes by. I can never make it out because it is not real. Sometimes though, it appears as if I can touch it, like a face with lips that feel like it is kissing mine as I exhale. Like it doesn’t ever want to leave me.
Dalliance
Your hand against my thighs feels like rain. It travels so well, going to places I didn’t know were there in my own body. Lips that taste of rosebuds plant roses on the sides of my neck, down my throat, planting secrets all over my shoulders. Your other hand down my back, they write me stories I’ve only been told as a girl.