I want women to hold my writing
hand so I can write poems about the things
I can’t say to them.
I trust the women I sit alone with.
they brush their fingers along my grazed
tattoo'ed arms, and ask
if I have a condom.
they are smarter than me.
The smell of girls that gave service
with berry lips
has faded into something
that could have been.
This is the universe where
I would take my hand and marry my words
if I was sure they were right.
I always feel like something is missing
but I never know what it is.
I feel like love is a type of clean, and
I’m too dark for it, too cut up.
If there was a licence for love,
I’d have points for speeding, so
I caution women.
I am not the ride to have
If you don’t want to crash
I’m a love child, so
everything about me is an accident
or a broken
or a good idea that doesn’t work.
And I want to die at my desk
thinking about how much beauty is born
from women and poetry.