Pop The Trunk

The Boy That Never Was

There’s a candle in my window for

the boy who never was.

It flickers just as brightly as

the laughter in his eyes. The warmth

inside his heart is matched by nothing

but the flame, and the tiny drips

of melted wax, intricate as his mind.

The candle burns to mourn this boy,

the one I could have loved.

He may have lived - this boy, indeed.

But mine he never was.

To Tokyo, With Love

Long lost lover living out

of sight, out of mind. I find myself

forgetting how it was to lay

eyes upon you, to lay beside

the water, to feel the soft caress

of your whispered words on my

waiting ear. Lover half a world away,

I no longer remember the sharp

glint of your smile, the sensuous

depth of your laughter. All I remember

Is your impossible perfection. Absence

makes the heart grow ill, poisons

memories to be larger than

love. Stay away lover, I fear

you’ll rob me of my love for your

image. I have broken a commandment;

I idolize your memory above you.

I had the pleasure of modeling for my favorite photographer and best friend this weekend. She's amazing, and you should check her out!

My favorite model visited this past weekend. I got some of these stellar shots around St. Augustine

Crime of Passion

I saw you, anonymous among the masses, a

passerby spending some time. Come closer,

lead me into artificial intimacy. Body on body,

eat me, crave me. A strange, succulent sweet.

Are we still strangers? I feel I know you so well.

Do you even know my name? Does it matter?

Give me more and who we are won’t matter.

Under these pulsing lights we could be anyone.

I am yours, sweet stranger, just for this song.

Let the beat hide our fears, inhibitions, and

those who are holding us back. The air is hot,

you stick to me. Sweaty sheets and mussed up makeup.

Que Sera, Sera

The vanilla-cinnamon scent of your sweat lingers

as your lips taste the salty-sweet strawberry of my thighs,

pale pink against the dark upholstery of your car.

The shadow of the church steeple looms outside,

casting fiery judgment as your hot breath finds the place

it is needed most. Gasps drown out the crickets chirping

in the warm spring night among the dandelions and

wildflowers. We are lost together, happy to wander

hand in hand. You catch my breath and I lose your mind.

Intertwined and indistinguishable, finding our way

through unfamiliar territory. Skin against

skin, heart to heart, I grasp you tight.

You take me there.

To Save A Wretch Like Me

In an attempt to inspire myself to start writing again, I have decided to gradually post the poetry collection I wrote during my last semester of college. It tells the story of two young lovers caught in an unhealthy relationship, confused by the values they've been brought up with, struggling to figure out what directions they're meant to take in life. A lot of the poems are still rather rough and I welcome feedback, but as a whole I hope you enjoy the collection.

Without further ado, I shall present poems from the collection, To Save a Wretch Like Me. To begin, part one: Temptation

Spring

Cut through the pallid skin of the fresh corpse of winter. Bleed beginnings.

The close of winter is a silent night, still darkness giving in to a vibrant day.

Dying frost. Awakening Blooms. Welcome to a new world.

Sweet, the scent of birdsong and blue.

In the movies, this is where the newborn enters the scene.

The dawn light breaks on pale pink, the bright call

of miles to go before I sleep.

I swear it’s too hot for this time of year.

Venus, why bring love in Spring if it dies in winter?

Dying minus the end equals resurrection.

Love and Hate

I’d never do anything to hurt you

  On the phone

at 3 AM. The line goes dead

as I wonder if I took hold of you

The way you took hold of me.

You sank into my mind

And made it your home.

  You still captivate me.

My mind is full of you

and all your empty promises.

It’s not fair that you were

Able to grab me so quickly.

You swept me up

Before I had a chance to

See what was happening.

Why do I love you?

Why don’t I hate you?

I wish I could read your mind

Just to know what you think

When I see you walk in

at 3:47, tears in my eyes,

because I know from the

scent of that jasmine perfume

just where you’ve been.

One Speck Spoils the Glass

Awake in a photo. Black and white, head hurts too much for color. Loose black slacks drape over a barely there dress on the floor. Milk on the nightstand in front of a background of wood. My hands rest on my stomach. Is milk on my skin? Man’s milk, perhaps. I want milk. What did I do last night? Rolling over, see what I did. He has a stressed smile, spindly at the ends, emblazoned with a promise. Don’t think I want what he’s offering. A sour taste coats my mouth. Turn over, drink the milk. If only the creamy froth could make my insides in its image. The word “milk” crowns everything. I too would like to be pure white.