Calling up ghosts...

girl love-warrior, writer, consumed by wanderlust

[callingupghosts]

Love Games

Your hand slides up behind my neck,

the kind of touch that makes me give it up all to you.

Pressed against the kitchen counter, it digs into my back, as your mouth slowly devours speech.

Hands gripping the edge, pushing into the warmth of you, so the softness of my body lines up with yours.

Unsteady,

I, sigh softly, as my clothes slip to the floor.

I like it when you tell me what to do.

You make temporary tattoos of our love games, in blue and red on my inked skin, your scent in my hair, under my nails.

Stripping away my shyness,

I sing songs of pleasure, pain, and skin on skin until I am shaking, shining just for you.

This game of giving up control is sweetest when I play it with you, even when it hurts.

You hurt me oh so sweetly.

[callingupghosts]

Nothing Can Last

I found you too soon.

My timing has always been wrong.

I subconsciously chose the snug security of my mother over the too bright cold world and shifted expectations.

Never been warm since.

Or on time.

I was drawn in by your way with words and your pure broken heart.

Hubris convinced me we could be good for one another.

My heart convinced me we could love.

You, so haunted by the ghosts that circle your head.

I am no medium.

Just a cracked mirror leaking bad luck on everything.

Midas with the touch of dust.

Where nothing can last.

-mcs

[callingupghosts]

Devastation

My heart is burning at both ends.

The air comes with a hazard warning.

Gets a nose bleed.

Told to stay inside, but has bills to pay.

I am here choking on tears,

I am here swallowing the rain.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Haunted

He has a way of pulling me back.

Heart strings tangled up in his hands.

My words curled up against his chest,

The warmest place I lay my head.

His scent haunts the air like a ghost,

I am the house.

All sensation. All sin.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Not my home

The metaphor isn’t lost on me darling.

I feel it humming electric between us.

Sometimes control can be mistaken for love,

Sometimes a promise a leash.

You made our love a boundary fence,

One day soon, I will run.

I will run,

No command will bring me back.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Landscape

I want us urgent explorers, my lips to trace the plains of your skin. Your hands whisper over my curves, where I become landscape and you are the wind.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Clean

I don’t think it was ever really love.

It was escape.

I was your escape.

A getaway car from that life you hated.

You were always more to me.

Then and now.

But you got out.

Clean slate.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Ghosts of Summer

The ghosts of summer come at dusk.

Leave the scent of long burnt out fireworks,

Stale beer ectoplasm shining on the grass.

Their hazy humid fingers obscure the morning.

Deceptive.

Like you.

You cooled before the weather did.

Not cool enough to pull on long sleeves,

Hood pulled low to obscure my eyes. Fragile.

On display,

Like those grinning skeletons hanging in stores early.

My head up.

Can you see my smile?

— m.c.s

//inkstay August word prompt #9

[callingupghosts]

City

By day ghosts walk,

Blank eyes,

Conditioned towards some small reward.

But the math of it is never enough.

By night half ghosts struggle towards sleep,

Weathered souls worn on the skin,

Pushed on,

Until nothing,

Just a stiff, starved repose.

Here the air wails,

Raw,

As if it’s voice were specked with blood.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Bad Days

Wake up, my veins are humming,

Lips taste like benzos and nicotine.

And my mind is running marathons,

So I take the stairs to floors I don’t need,

Try to shake the adrenaline somehow,

Still find it hard to breathe.

Do I feel lonely?

I should be used to it by now.

I could go start over,

Tell myself it will be different this time.

I gotta stop looking for a soulmate,

When the soul that needs my love is mine.

Pain makes a home so easy,

Love is a bag packed by the door.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

In Dreams

Heaven is a cheap hotel where time moves honey slow,

Dim light, faded carpet, white sheets,

There is no scent of you in my hair here,

Intertwined limbs,

Smoke-like,

Sharing skin,

We are ghosts haunting the room,

Until daylight flutters in.

-m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Name change to protect my privacy as I get more followers. I am so grateful for the follows btw <3 I just don’t want to be found by certain parties I may write about. Thank you again for the follow as I work on this poetry writing thing :)

[callingupghosts]

Precarious

I’ve walked the tight rope of my life for too long. Precarious situations. Unstable people. You say I like the danger. Maybe I did once. Now I want the thrill of you asking me to do things with heat in your eyes. I want to drive until we get lost. I want the danger of risking our friendship on a future with you. My feet are raw from years of walking on the edge. I am ready to step down. I am ready for only the danger of being vulnerable. With you.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Phantom

A phantom scent of you haunts me,

Here and gone,

Teasing moments,

As I go about my day.

Sometimes at night,

As I turn, searching for sleep.

I like to think it comes,

When you are thinking of me.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

The Future

You come out the house where you grew up,

I run into your arms,

Breathe in the memories.

You introduce me to your father,

Show me photos of you young stuck to the fridge.

I want to believe we can do the distance,

You talk of all the things we will do when I come back.

My hand can’t stop straying to your knee.

Your smile holds all the highways we will drive down,

In your eyes I see the rest of my life.

[callingupghosts]

Fragments

I have no home.

My home is in those I love,

Each has a fragment of my soul.

Late at night, I can feel them resonating,

Within those that hold each piece.

It is possible we are just the same star,

Trying to become whole again.

Longing to close the distance,

To build a place for us all.

—m.c.s

[callingupghosts]

Ghosts

Going back has me calling up ghosts,

To meet in the old haunts,

My past is buried

Under that overpriced earth.

I like to dig my former skeleton up,

Dust off the dirt,

And wear her while I’m there.

I miss her, my discarded past,

Those beautiful ghosts,

Back when I felt alive.

Now I’m heartsick

Homesick

Walking dead

Ready to get out of here,

So I can feel again.