Waving Not Drowning

She's hunting poems. There's a taste in her mouth, sweet and salty with too much heat, words on her tongue, burning, bubbling, sparking, exploding. She loves his words, devours them whole, tearing  pages with her teeth, ripping out spines with her bare hands. Destruction in the consumption. Hers, all hers. Her body littered with the detritus of fonts and fiction pulped paper cardstock and ribbons. She is drooling ink dripping antonyms from the corners of her mouth. A pool of punctuation covers her feet leaking through her toes as she marks a path of poetry with footprints in italics. Her body shakes semi-colons leak from her fingers as she throws her arms overhead shooting exclamation marks into the fading autumnal sky. Ellipses litter the ground where she stands, marking a path to the bench where the tattered broken shells of his writing abound Spent depleted used. That's what words are for, she says. To be used abused articulated manipulated. Word...

And this is how it goes. You give a little to get a little. When your expectations fall apart, stop having them. When the wants and needs override the plain and simple facts of the matter, change course. Lean into it or fall over and get back up. Again. Then one more time. And again because the bottom's not going anywhere but the sky is limitless. Practice grace and forgiveness then eat some good cookies. Be kind. To yourself. Then more so to the ones you love especially if they can't give you what you want. Or need. Sleep deeply. Dream lucidly. Create the most perfect reality that you can then let it go. Have a spontaneous dance break and throw your hands in the air. Like you just don't care. Words are worthy. You are worthy. We- we are here to be loved. So let's love.

It's all about you but you knew that. Eventually, at some point, you would bleed into my words since you completely consumed my mind and body. Wrapped up in my skin I wear you in sheets, like a cannibal, layered over my bones, a new fangled fascia knotted yet stretched thin. You left but were never really here. I thought you were but then the light shifted and suddenly you were far, far away. My body reverberates in open chordings, familiar sounds I can't replicate without you. Tangled up in a confusion of memories, woven into the tendons and ligaments, contorted by time and distance. A receiver left hanging from it's cradle, a dial tone underscore. Hang up already. Disconnect.

He brought the cigarette up to his lips. Du Maurier, king size. Squinting, he blew the smoke rings over her outstretched fingers. She hated the fact that he smoked but it was all about picking her battles. Yeah, he was 5 inches shorter than her, but it was kind of hot. Turned her on. Guys would hit on her when they walked down the street together, oblivious to the fact that his hand was entwined with hers. His biker boots gave him an extra 2 inches but it was all the same laying down, nudge nudge, wink wink. They both had alcoholics in their midst. His father, the self-made entrepreneurial terminal disaster. Always moving on to the next big thing, always leaving everyone else behind. Her entire family was off the rails. They ran a grow op out of the basement where she played tennis against the unfinished concrete wall. Broke two of the fluorescent lights once, and panicked that she'd be grounded. They were still kids themselves, eighteen, nineteen. Every breath was all consuming. T...