spilled emotions – Page 3

i never wanted
to need you,
but i closed my eyes and
unclenched my heart
and now, when you’re gone,
sometimes
i’m lost.

you have become a refuge.
you lead me
with open palms and
bare soles
to the patch of
sun on the asphalt
while the earth crumbles
around me. you sit cross-legged
and teach me how to smile again
when the muscles in my face
forget.

you kiss me, with lips
like warm blankets, and
i am secure
amidst the chaos.

you engulf me like
the sea, and
i am drowning in
your serenity.

i never thought drowning could be so peaceful // a.s.m

when i hide the world
underneath closed lids,
i dream of you.

the voices in my mind sing
nothing but your music, and
my heart is sore from constantly
reaching for you.

every step i take is in hopes that
soon i will walk on
your soil. until then,
my hands must learn to be
content only
to write about you.

Yerevan // a.s.m

the Turkish coffee cup
shards on the floor
draw blood.

that delicate porcelain
holds eighty-two years of life,
wrinkled hands, cardamom
coffee-stained
smiles and desert air;
a shattered mirage on
hard, cold kitchen
tile.

a thousand fangs,
they draw blood and make
home in the soles
of my feet.

cardamom coffee // a.s.m

you were famished
from birth, waiting for
this world to give you your fill.
i tripped into your arms,
you came in for the kill.

you bite
with ravenous lips
and starving eyes;
part of you is born and
part of me dies.

blood donor // a.s.m

you make me feel
something scary and
yet so comforting,
consuming. you are
a contradiction,
a recipe for disaster,
and yet i love you.
perhaps instinct
trumps common sense
in matters of the
heart.
perhaps my fear of
intimacy
will melt under your lips
and i will let you run them all over me.

exedo // a.s.m

your breath, warm
milk and roses.
your arm, a barrier
for intruders-separating
us from the world.
i don’t know
the time or where
i am or what i was
supposed to be doing;
i only know
your heartbeat, the heat of
your lips, warm
milk and roses.

warm milk & roses // a.s.m

i’ve never not wanted to write
about love before,
but every minute
my pen is to this paper
is a thought you have without me,
a smile i may miss,
a lost opportunity to tell you
i love you i love you
i love you.

why i haven’t written any poems about you lately // a.s.m

I. EVACUATION
run
without thinking.
let your feet slap
the pavement. you need
to get out of here before
they burn you alive.
i know it hurts. sometimes
you have to
save yourself first.

II. VIRGINITY
no footprints in the snow.
you’ve not yet learned to
not let everyone in.

III. BLESSED CHILD
you’ve been vandalized
you throw your body
off of cliffs
so you can know how
it feels to fly.
you’re branded and scarred,
and you only know
how to smile.

fire, ice, and heaven // a.s.m

the best time to write is when
i’m sorry or sleepy because
the words flow unapologetically–
they do not try so hard to sound good.

there is a drum in the front of my brain,
and I don’t know if it’s
because of the rain or the way
the dentist drilled my gums today.

it is empty in the house, but too loud
with my mother’s anxieties,
and the air is heavy with tears
that are shed once the lights go out–
shed like room for growth and
thicker walls–
shed like hair, like skin,
to make room for
something new and healthy and strong.

what do we shed with our tears?
our weakness? our pain?

what do we shed with our tears? // a.s.m

i have been waiting.
through skin untouched
and sallow love.
i have been waiting;
i believe
it has been for you.

could it be
you are a shadow from
my dreams?
your voice,
where have i heard that
tone?
why does it sound so much
like home?

you’re so familiar to me // a.s.m