Upon these cotton blankets
My head falls
Tired and wasted
I smell you like you never left
A hundred sentences
Composed from one breath 
The flicker of a memory 
A single droplet
Composed from one symphony
A sadness washes over me
Unattended now
Hushing echoes of my soliloquy



I am a Thunderstorm 

The past is a prologue 

To the story of my life  
Born into the palms of 
Someone who would always be
A stranger 
I was supposed to be a boy
Named David 
What a stunner 
Instead I was born an anchor
My backstories are burdens
Weighing lovers down
Positioning them on the run 
My hands tremble 
I jump before the trigger
My life is a thunderstorm 
And I twirl in it
I sleep in it
I breathe with stillness in it
Often my tears outdo it 
I was the bolt of lightening 
Shocking an unsuspecting island 
Making waves that never quit
Inked with marks of slits 
Upon each wrist 
It just is what it is 
I am what I am
I am a thunderstorm 
I am that rain, that wetness
Gliding downstream 
On your cheeks 
*From “make it rain Monday” on Kindred Words