| 12 poems written within a range of 12 days in the 12th month, 2003 by Angela M. Mendez |
| Do you remember? I was your first swallow of milk. I was the rug catching your first steps I was the blood pumping into your first erection I was the steering wheel of your first car I was the first breast you ever cupped Now I am the cushion of your throne Do not forget me |
| Do not leave me here to face the rising sun alone. Take my hand and guide me through the dark. I will sit and wait for you to touch my face and whisper my name Your love for me grows with your cock and then is gone. When your breathing steadies and you remove your hands from my hair, it is time to return to our clothes. You only show yourself when you cum It is the only time that your curtains open and in pours the sunlight, into whichever dark room we happen to end up in. |
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| Time with you is pretty and painless. Silent. How I enjoy it! Your knee touching mine, your arm on the back of my chair, your lips...your lips! I watch you place small kisses on the back of my left hand. I wonder how you can drive the car and drive me crazy. You are brilliant! Time twirls a skirt and disappears. So quickly! So quickly! |
The dessert menu is full of things I cannot have. I cannot choose between peanuts or pecans when there is so much at stake. I have asked for the check but will not pay it. I will stay a bit and listen to your smile. |
you will reach for my hand only to fill your palms with air you will drink and drink only to remain parched you will live only to never live again as soon as I leave you will turn your head you will open your mouth you will breathe in the lonely air and you will know that I am gone |
| it comes early anxious and swift covering dreams and parked cars it filters onto paths of psychedelic tiles and broken promises love hidden beneath snowflakes is still love this is the fact of our lingering acquaintance |
| My sister has been dead for four years. There is no mystery in grief. It is fueled by sunlight and requires no sleep. It makes you drink water in order to cry. It makes you eat in order to throw up. Do you think I enjoy it? There is no mystery in grief, the mystery is You. Do you think I would love you if I could stop? |
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| Sex means nothing to the sexless Breath means nothing to the breathless Life means nothing to the lifeless I mean nothing to you Dervishes dance and ask for no payment They serve no one and sing brilliant songs We mean nothing to them You and I are bound with duct tape and pieces of string, the kind you find on a bakery floor. You mean everything to me. We are numbed by the stinging wind of winter We stare at pictures of daisies and try to remember what they smell like After you have left, returned to your important things, your smell lingers between my legs I stumble to the bathroom and piss you away The dervishes won't come back They have danced and gone We mean nothing to them |
| The angel says: You have asked me to wait and I will but what am I waiting for? Beautiful words strung together like christmas lights are useful only once a year, then boxed and forgotten. That is what happens to beauty. You are a luxury like time to waste like boxes and boxes of Godiva like porcelain dolls with diamond eyes like kings and queens made of elephant tusks Why waste time? Do not ask if I love you. Look into my eyes. |
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| All poems Copyright 2004 Angela M. Mendez |
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