1.3.20
DANCER
youre my first and last fuck of two years
the first meal i cook with tenderness falls on your lap
with gratitude and grace
youre willingness and kindness
carving joy into my laughlines
sculpting me into better
i speak deeply of you – so far out of this world
hubble cant see reach
if i told you, she walks two steps away from my heart with every packed bag
every selfish action
things you sense but don’t know
the way my mother sense beauty in your presence
pride in our love
what would you do?
i want to tell you these things
how she breaks my heart everytime i leave
how i fought for a small place for you in our mirror
stained with shampoo and hair curling products
and i shatter at her silence
date nights turned half smiles her face only lit up with the shine of a cellphone screen
her fingers trace those keys more often than my skin
on my hands
cooking meals delivered to no one
throat too sore for a gentle goodmorning
but fingers willing for paragraph conversations elsewhere
i feel exiled from the first place that feels like home
pushed away to make room for someone else
every night feeling her presence more and more foreign
if i told you these things
would you rejoice? or would your heart brake with mine.
what kind of person are you.