Self love is also remembering to let others love you.
Come out of hiding.
// Irisa Yardenah
MIND: Fruta
I row my beautiful, temporary body through this water-lily world.
// Mary Oliver
MIND: Fragrant
Nostalgia wears you like a perfume, I smell you everywhere.
// Pavana
SOL: Juxtaposition
Echoing sonnets ring from the ceiling
Your hand on my chest and
An ache coursing through spine
Bent over promises I made as
You come to collect on cold hard tiles
It was better before but
Bargaining for life will suffice
Daydreaming of freedom, praying softly into pillows for
The time to come, long awaited
Basking into the sunrise before you open your eyes
The sour taste you left in my mouth was rapidly erased
By the sweet stench of escape
3AM Thoughts // AKA “How Bad It Was – How Good It’s Become.”
MIND: Hazy
The Mediterranean sun has something tragic about it, quite different from the tragedy of fogs. Certain evenings at the base is the seaside mountains, night falls over the flawless curve of a little bay, and there rises from the silent waters a sense of anguished fulfillment. In such spots one can understand that if the Greeks knew despair they always did so through beauty and its stifling quality.
Helen’s Exile // Albert Camus
SOL: Sybaritic
The devil is a woman in
A black dress, backless, looking spineless
Chain smoking loosely rolled cigarettes as if
It is a kindness, exhaling ash, each word
Biting your lobe, voracious, transparent attempts to
Rile you up, make the atmosphere boil
The rough shape of her jaw making
You stick to your clothes, forcing eyelids shut
Imagining an easier death, lilies on graves, sunnier
Days, admitting defeat – you know she loves best with her
Throat exposed
3AM Thoughts // AKA “I Teach Her of Passion From The Tip Of My Tongue.”
SOL: Rhetorical
It is better than he could have
Dreamed, being loved by me
He wakes up in sweat-soaked sheets
Aching to the teeth
The softest imprint
In his mind of my body
Emerging from the lake, covered in
Lilies, dripping with promise
He convulses in agony
Losing sleep, begging for an answer
What does it mean?
3AM Thoughts // AKA “Stronger than desire but weaker than poison.”
SOL: Kismet
I give to you parts
Of me others were begging
For, hands over knees
3AM Thoughts // AKA “Haiku 32.”
MIND: Core
At bottom, you see, you are the only thing that counts for me,
for you are everything – beauty, love, poetry … in a word, life.
// Guillaume Apollinaire, from a letter to Madeleine Pagès
SOL: Covetous
the same girl from the
coffeeshop
each morning with peach
pit lips wrapping around
a double espresso
she is miles away yet very
nearly here as she
smiles at the dog near her knee
is this as good as it gets, watching her
from a distance, drinking her in as
the wintery wind lifts her
velvet skirt like a lover and
she laughs again
3AM Thoughts // AKA “My Skin Aches to Touch You.”
