Discretionary Love

Woman is faithful (she waits), man is fickle (he sails away, he cruises). It is Woman who gives shape to absence.        

privilege perfumes you like sea-salt mist, glistening on the little silver spoons swimming through the waves of your hair like lures in deep water. catching

in flickering candlelight i unbutton more than your dress kissing the crimson valley your lips create along that river of ink running down your spine,

After sex, my new lover thirsts, but all the cups are downstairs in the kitchen, except yours—it sits on my dresser now, vesselling receipts and

A couch built for three, yet you insist on sharing a cushion. It almost makes up for our self-imposed distance, a safety measure leaving me

We keep running into each other, that summer after my graduation,                            

Bones are all I have left Of this decrepit old soul, And though I am at rest My bones will forever call To hers locked

Summer’s solitary tune is finally Being unstrung by breeze, Short single nights given reprieve As it sinks below dirt. But I’m caught within its doorway.

We are branded immiscible; the oil and water, of our caste fabric. Darkness becomes our sanctuary and stealth is second nature. We meet in planned

I wanted to confirm the existence of a man, who would love me enough to brush his eyelashes against my face, like you would a

They weren’t the greatest Christmas lights in Dallas. You asked for the Galleria or the lightshow outside the firehouse. Those arches were hacky. Blended spicy