the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Category: poetry (page 11 of 64)

how we keep (stay)

how we keep (stay)

IMG_0868
you see. when he
and i combine it
is like tidal wave
pulling and pushing
and grabbing and
wet. i stay. remain
starts to be a style.
my midtown hips
his brooklyn hits;
swelter methods
evaporate flames
when we are t(w)o-
gether. gathering rise
and sets. methods
i keep him. sun up,
sun down. cyclic
circle moving each
time he slaps in-
side with just me.
we stay. private.
secret retaining
with one. remaining.

 

“Got some dirt on my shoulder, could you brush it off for me?”


 

potential of possibility

potential of possibility

he came and went. this style. of existence.
not knowing my stance that… everyone leaves.
i stopped my heart before it could commence;
rejecting this world for what i believe.
if he sees one truth, then let it be me.
his pieces snapped in. my kaleidoscope
gaze. he stared into me. what does he see?
endeavoring to mask my faith. my hope…
in my headspace walls, none of it matters.
i have rainbows of ways to deal and cope;
perceiving days as chaos and chatter.
looking around to only see absent.
with claws still dug in that some things are meant.

the way that we (started)

the way that we (started)

the first night. he was in my bed. i blinked –
a 3am stir. my discovery
painted my immunity in fresh ink.
snapped look connection. our recovery.
a cool tail of summer brushing our skin,
swimming in oceans, playing in gardens –
uncertainty perishes. now. begins.
what falseness presents, fate always pardons.
rolling shoulders as a way to lighten
up. my focus rose and set. on master
manifestation. the way he heightens
my world, time stops. eradicate faster.
i awoke next to someone. blue eyed dream.
return to realize. unravel seams.

So… I just had the best weekend of my life. Hands down. I danced to this in my living room when I got out of bed before. I haven’t even had coffee yet.

open house

open house

this. six foot, something, southern skateboarder
showed up. again after i say… forfeit.
initial resist. fuzz and disorder.
he owned this gift; eradicate torment.
forte pulse. piano words. i unfolded
around him. environment of one. choice.
we closed the door. and both… repaired broken,
he spread me out to discover my voice;
we filled each other’s world, then, disappeared.
i stretched beside an open window i
filled my lungs with city; swearing him near.
late night calls. sideways looks. 4am cries.
a new life texture. to sway and reside.
devouring time until he’s inside.

ode of despondency

ode of despondency

this novelty
of love
knocked
on
my door. Continue reading

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