the world and writing of a nyc writer

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Category: writing (page 1 of 81)

rekindle rapport

rekindle rapport

when we met
we extended. i taught
and we learned
while he swore. that. this
only happens once.
i chewed my nails
and i bit too short.
i curled into 4am
silence. and he was
the one p/eace/iece
be(cause) the way i
shake. he k(new)
that. when i stretched
into the sun it was
like i could never reach
far. enough. the style
i chose to stop; inside.
there is so much
loud noise every time
i hold my breath.
when i exhale
he always appears
again.

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aspiring amore

aspiring amore

I was. Thinking in poetry again.
Green-blue constellation eyes. Staring. Back.
I inhaled now and stopped wishing for when.
I straightened my spine and felt my bones crack.
A bounce in my step and new aura glow;
Like there’s no longer a possible stop.
And never invention of the word no.
The expansion of my heart. Stomach drop.
What I didn’t say came out through my pores.
Sunlight showers washing my grey sky days.
Opening windows and taking down doors.
Reinvention of love, finding new ways.
His puzzle piece body completes my spread –
A hydrated desert. Appetite fed.

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how it starts

I bumped my head the night we met and never saw things the same way again.

The second day I saw him, we walked down a boardwalk along a salt-scented Brooklyn coastline. He wore sweatpants and a baseball hat and we talked about him being first generation and me having left for a decade. We comment on the different shades of green blossoms in each other’s eyes. He kisses me at Cony Island, on the subway and all other kinds of pubic places.

“I love that you don’t give a fuck,” he says before shoving his tongue in my mouth while I nearly tip off my bar stool leaning into his clean, tight shave. I end up getting a chin rash from our faces devouring the other and we agree that he’ll shave closer next time.

And then we kiss again, here. And more, there.

We were born in the same year. The year of the horse. We have secrets that we haven’t shared yet, and some that we’ll never tell. Out of respect, we don’t call when the other disappears. Instead, we wordlessly exchange a youthful trust that one of us will always appear again. Somewhere.

He stands better than half a foot above me, and there’s something that melts me when I have to look up that high. When I actually have to tip my head back to focus.

He acts like Italy and sounds like love. He’s a stranger who is my family and when we talk I say things like, “I care about you and your family very much.”

He smells like Paris and dresses like Soho. When he asks, I agree. And that’s how it starts.

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magnetic incitement

magnetic incitement

I became a magnet on 2nd Ave;
I turned to attraction, drawn to his core.
Becoming who you are, not what you have.
Exceeding physical with pull and lure.
I awoke the next day, drawn to the sky.
My thoughts, soul and heart – a new direction.
Grounded at last, a reborn style of flight.
Perpetually stuck to this reflection.
We fit like spirit with facts of science.
Every thought magnetic, every heartbeat.
Becoming vital with no reliance.
When opposite dissipates truth can meet.
Our body’s attraction, merged into one.
Eternal connection. Never undone.

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outside (of) me

outside (of) me

it is
like…
i can. feel…
and when?
he approaches…
i have this
extension.
i am stretching
while he pulls
i am twisting.
(and i suddenly
_________________view lifetimes in—)
side. his eyes.
like i do not
have to tell
you.

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