#1 Dear Cosmic Mistake,
If you're friends with me on Facebook, you probably know what this is about. If not, here's how it goes: So I've been working on this series for quite sometime now and this is a series of poetry that is in the form of letters, all addressed to one single entity: Dear Cosmic Mistake.
So essentially, these poems are about love. About this stupid, intense feeling called love. I plan on compiling this into a book someday and maybe when you read this, you will relate. You will say, "hey that happened to me!" or maybe you won't. What matters is, whether we choose to admit it or not, love does tatter our souls to only leave us gasping for more.
So here's the first poem from the #DearCosmicMistake series.
Dear Cosmic Mistake, My words unbridle your heartstrings, I know. All the waves my words brewed, shook your soul, I know. You said you wanted to look me in the eye and talk. Talk of what? I thought. Haven't we exhausted our lifetime of words already? When you said you wanted to talk, I wanted to imagine, That you meant strewing winter fleece words, nectar-dipped and bitter sweet, Under the inky blue moon less skies; Your finger inexpertly tracing lost stars, Guiding my shaky index across the celestial canvases, Letting me be the past, the present and the future (even if it were for a flickering moment), Of stories untold, songs sung, galaxies traversed and worlds lost. I imagine possibilities. Possibilities that we both know are futile hoping for. Possibilities that'd ruin our already ruined, thunder-struck bodies for good. What's your body ruined with, Dear Cosmic Mistake? I want to imagine, with mine; With the mistakes of my sin-stained hands and love-thirsty lips. My words are all lost, My heart wells, as I throw up, metaphor after metaphor, Of pure untinged hope. Hope that ties my body down in chains, Hopes of forevers under moonless skies and thunderstorm nights. Hopes of your taste on my lips and filigreed whorls of your dreams, underneath my tongue. Hopes between falling, rising, swell of our pulses combined and the smell of rusting cast iron of your heart. I want to imagine entwined fingers and moonlight-glazed eyes, I want to imagine warm bodies and warmer hearts. I want to be the thunder in your bones as you shudder awake each morning, The lightning in your eyes, as you spearhead memories of us, across dreamscape dartboards of your soul. Baby I want to slowly, softly, surely feel your reverberating heart, Against the caged contours of mine and see if that's the closest we can get, to painful goodbyes. I want to be one with the night, to be one with each whispered light of dawn. I want for once, for you to want me too, And be the pure shot of raw undiluted wild-as-fuck-love in your soul. You said you wanted to make love to me. Blunt. Steel-cold. Raw. Throwing me off balance, From the deck of designed realities you wove for me. The vibrant truth in your voice, shivering fresh, Fluid shots of adrenaline down my spine. I want to imagine you. Your rough wood-bark hands. Your summer washed skin. Your silver sweet lips. Your hurricane brewing eyes. Your name. Your heart. You. Dear cosmic mistake, take my hand, take my heart, And until we part, Be my song, Be my poetry, Be the life in my veins, Be all that I am.