Friends, Lovers or Nothing

she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes--
she sits
and waits

her hair a jumbled brown tangle
roughed up from the friction--
from the sheets and his skin and his hands--
her cheeks slightly rosy,
complexion dewy, that perfect blend of porcelain and flush

she sits--
her pale hands nervous,
her delicate fingers with the nails painted plum--picking anxiously,
anxiously at the sheets,
twisting themselves in the 600 count cotton--
she sits
and waits

the door creaks--
she bites her lips,
her pulse thudding loudly in her ears,
she strains for a reassuring glimpse of his shadow--
and sees it in the doorway
she breathes a sigh of relief

he enters the room,
and as always, she is amazed--
how could someone, so perfect, so beautiful,
how could someone as marvelous as him
see something so marvelous in someone like her--
she marvels in the absurdity

tall, strong, masculine, blonde
she allows herself one hedonistic moment
one selfish moment to just stare shamelessly and drink him in--
her turquoise eyes meet his, and she feels a splash of warmth across her cheeks
the smoldering intensity behind those ocean eyes makes her heart race

this isn't love--it can't be,
she insists
purely lust, unrestrained and running wild and free
and yet, what else could it be?
how else could she even begin to explain how he seemed to occupy so much of her mind?

she sits--
amidst the rumpled bedclothes,
aching, yearning,
she sits
and chides herself as nothing more than a fool
she sits, and she waits--

he sits then, on the edge of the bed,
flashes her one of his trademarked smiles--
crooked and boyish
playful, yet purely seductive
maddening yet utterly heart stuttering--
leans towards her, and envelops her in a crushing hug
she closes her eyes, and much like an addict, breathes him in

he lets go, without the words she longs to hear
reaching down to the floor to pick up his jeans
and he puts them on, making some joke about something trivial, insignificant--
and she laughs, though her heart falls to the floor

she quickly dresses, folding up her feelings deep inside herself
while he steps outside to have a smoke
and as the door closes, she lets her head fall into her hands
and allows herself one controlled moment to break into a trillion jagged little pieces--
before he comes back and she has to exude cool indifference

she sits--
on the edge of his king sized bed,
her legs tangled in the tumult of sheets,
she sits, she waits,
but for what...in that briefest flicker of moments,
she isn't quite sure--

--"friends with benefits", 05/25/2011.

Tiny Light

I'm lying here in bed
It's nearly three in the morning
And of course I'm thinking about you
Of course

I'm wondering if you're really going to do
What you said you were gonna do
If you don't get your way
And if
If I really should care

Of course we both know the answer
Yes
Of course

And I'm wondering why I care so much
Why I care so much about you
Why my heart worries so much
About you
It's funny, I suppose

Why I can barely stand the thought
Of an everyday without you
It's ridiculous, of course
Why should I care
We're both adults, free to do as we choose
Ridiculous to miss you
Of course

And yet
I'm lying here
Quietly hoping that you don't go
Because I need you to stay, of course
I've gotten so used to you
That must be it, my brain insists
You're my very own daily routine
That's why I want you to stay

Of course we both really know the answer
I need you, we both know
Of course

--"Wild Hope", 01/17/2011.

Chasing Pavements

My love affair with you, oh city of disparaging dreams,
Began on a Tuesday morning in December 1985
That snowy 17th you cradled me in your gritty arms
And I called you Home

I know there are some who prefer the country
Who delight in the vast expanses of hill and vale
But I prefer the dirt and the concrete
The crush of people and the incessant pulse of the city
I love the busyness of it all, the start and stop of things
The vivacious rhythm that one can only find in the urban oasis
I can’t be without it, the hushed sound of the streets calling my name
Without you, my humbled city, I am lost

I grew up in awe of your stoic presence
In the shadow that your brick and stucco edifice cast
I navigated the throng of the metropolitan playground
My hand safely tucked in my mother’s as I adventured about town
There was a great deal to see in my glittering world of you
And I tried to drink you in as much as I could, my shimmering jewel of a city
I was immersed in the wide eyed infatuation of a child

I lay in bed at night, lulled to sleep by the sound of traffic
Of airplanes flying low overhead
I could hear the hustlers making their money on the corner
The whispered lyrics of the inner city song
Noisy mufflers and women shouting provided the music
Breaking bottles and distant gunshots were the refrain


As I grew older I took you for granted
My dingy, dirty ramshackle city of broken dreams
The glittering gems of my youth were now, in my eyes of lost innocence
Nothing more than cracked and lackluster shards of poorly painted glass
I turned up my nose at your boarded up window fronts
When I should have lamented at your crumbling plaster shame
I scoffed at your downtrodden children, dirty and astray
Who slept in your doorframes and street grates
When I should have wept for your former glory instead
I turned my back on you in your most dire hour


I didn’t know your pain at the time
I was only focused on my immediate moment
Suburban daydreams, green grasses and strip malls
White picket fences and the empty lies of a charlatan fool
When I should have listened to your concrete whispers
Calling me back to the ones who truly loved me instead
It took a broken heart and shattered dreams
To make me find my love for you again
I promised you, my aching city, that I would never turn my back again


So I teach my son the illustrious history of your youth
The shining glory of your golden age
I show him your proud buildings from an era long since past
I tell him that through your tarnish there still is beauty
Though many see it and are confused
They fail to realize that in your dimmed magnificence there is a promising future
That in your veins runs the possibility of change anew
They fail to see that you still breathe, my damaged city
They choose instead to give up on themselves and on you
And thus, in their ignorance they blatantly abuse you


They break your heart with a sudden blast
Violently and instantaneously snuffing out the life
Of another of your bright and promising children
With a cowardly leaden bullet
And they seem to forget that when your rough concrete skin is splashed
With their innocent blood you die a little too, my fading city
A hundred thousand tiny crimson deaths
Beading and congealing in your cemented pores


And your people, they cry out in pain
They scream and bemoan their anguish to the skies
They cry out and leave vestiges of their sorrow
In the teddy bears and flowers they leave on the side of the pavement
The dates painted on windows in memoriam of those they loved
Ribbons tied to utility poles, silent reminders of those who left one day
And never came home
Makeshift memorials in a guerrilla war on a deteriorating city
Where the right and wrong sides were never truly made clear


And it hurts you too, though you cannot cry
For no mother should have to stand idly by
And helplessly watch her children die
Especially over something so meaningless and insignificant
As cars or clothes or foolish, fragile pride


But you raise your head, Cleveland
For although they have beaten you down,
The dreamless assassin has not yet won
You are beautiful yet, and still strong and proud
And through all the tears and dirt and blood
Amid the crumbling concrete and shattered glass, I still hear your music
In the voices of the ones who refuse to back down
The song of the city continues to be sung
You shall carry on, Cleveland.
You shall carry on.
                                             --"Words of Hope for My City"
                                                            04/26/2010

Bad Romance

I think of you
Far much than I really should
My thoughts linger too long on the curve of your lips
And the way your eyes light up when you smile

I cannot explain the way I feel
This sudden rush of emotion
That accompanies thoughts of you
I cannot even begin to explain
Why

I long to feel your fingers
Your touch against my bare skin
I am dying to feel your lips crushed against my own
Caught up in the heat of the moment
Our bodies pressed together
Breathing harsh and fast
Fingers scrabbling at flesh,
Limbs twined
I long to feel that rush,
Like a snort of carnal cocaine
I feel as though I’m already addicted to you
And will not be able to get enough

My stupid heart
Hopes achingly
Wondering if we are destined to be
That I found you for a reason
My brain is telling my heart to shut the hell up
I don’t need the confusion
I just want to live in the moment and let go
Is that too much for me to ask?

--"Untitled", Lashawn Chillious
(Written 6/20/2008)