#shewantedstorms

[shewantedstorms]

Say Surrender.  Caramel torso rippling with the leavings of desire. Say hunger. Hug her. Say tongue with teeth like small moons. We're getting there.   A bed can be a piece of furniture or a world unto itself  depending on who's tangled in it's sheets.  Say white out. When I touched him, everything else went to static. I wanted to move together like a body breathes.  But I have never struggled so much to just breathe as when he touched me. Say tongue-tied. Butterflies. The way dawn's fiery reflection ripples on the pond. I wanted this to be more than the hunger of one body for another. I wanted the purity of depth. Say puddle. I am splashing in his tangled sea of blankets lips wet and primed for salvation while he uses the rest room. Say rest room. The rest of the room fades to atmosphere. There is just a bed, just a boy, just the ebb and flow of our desires coursing like a flooded river. Help me. I just wanted to breathe together.

Say Surrender (after @oceanvuong) by K. Stocker (shewantedstorms)

[shewantedstorms]

His skin is summer, his kisses a light rain.  By the end of the night I am drenched in his presence fingers intertwined like a statement of fact. Like a prayer that says: "Maybe I do not need to be alone to find myself"

“I wrote this in his bed” by K. Stocker (shewantedstorms)

[shewantedstorms]

If you want an answer, ask your mother. I have spent years searching for the perfect memory. Something warm and steady to keep my hands from trembling. I have never seen my bones, but I am told that they are chalky white.  When I die, I would like to keep my skeleton as a token. Oh wait.  I have trouble with the notion of void. In the absence of life, does anything exist at all? If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is there to hear it, did it really make a sound? My grandmother told me she would come back as a butterfly. Sometimes I get angry because I will never be able to discern  magic from coincidence.  I asked him to read me a bedtime story. I asked him to read to me like my father used to, one ear pressed against his chest where the words crunch like gravel.  His hand traced circles on my inner thigh. I am a memory splintering into the dawn.  I am a mathematician, but I cannot calculate the sum of my parts. I cannot calculate -  Last night, I stared into the mirror  until my face became nonsense to my eyes. I don't know why.  I don't know what so lithely compels me to tell you so many dark & secret things. I'm sorry. Do you ever feel like that? Do you know what I'm trying to say?

K. Stocker

[shewantedstorms]

I am done being a puddle-jumper. I want a lover I can drown in. Give me the monsoon, flood waters, let the levee break. Look me in the eye.  I promise I am not afraid. I want you to touch me like you are trying to pull the ocean from my trembling flesh.  Breathe me in ~ and I will prove how even water can burn.

K. Stocker (shewantedstorms)

[shewantedstorms]

In the end, it was quiet. Moss grew in the cracks between us. We softened into our separate skins, and let fungus grow in the wet spaces between our tongue and teeth. The sun rose and fell like a body breathing. When you finally stood to leave, you said nothing. The moss swallowed your footsteps like a feeling. The air was thick with the possibility of rain.  I fell asleep dreaming of the word "speak" and woke alone in a bed of white chrysanthemums. When I realized you were gone, My body felt swollen with rainwater. Throaty and full of loss I murmured your name into the creek bed. Too late, I realized but oh ~ There is so much I wanted to tell you.

K Stocker (shewantedstorms)

[shewantedstorms]

There are moments that are swallowed in the shadow of the divine. Do you know what I mean? Moments that echo some beautiful memory, that make your heart ache for another time. Once upon a time, I waded through a swimming hole tucked into a forest glade  laughing and kissing a man with whom I was madly in love. One year later I waded through the same swimming hole holding the hand of a man who was good-enough-for-now. As the sunlight reflected off the water and danced  on our interlaced fingers, I remembered a different set of hands holding my own with all the tenderness of young love. My breath flooded out of me as though I had been struck. I looked at the man beside me with a belly full of worms. Memories sharpen on the whet stone of time. They can reach out and cut you like a knife. The purest of memories can wound you sometimes. It was an old sadness that drew me in and told me I would never have anything that beautiful ever again.

K Stocker (shewantedstorms)

[shewantedstorms]

I was a field, burning. You looked at this and saw only light. Only the beauty  in the dancing flame. You came asking  to touch me.  In the morning, you held your scorched hands tender in your lap. You accused me with your eyes. "I feel like I don't even know you" you spat, wounded and afraid. Lover, I was always fire. What made you think that you wouldn't burn?

K. Stocker (shewantedstorms)

[shewantedstorms]

Dear God, I am trying, but the hunger keeps biting the cord that powers the light. I have been sleeping with the shadow of a memory. I have been dreaming of submarines and suns lost to the wake of time. I am asking questions about redemption. I am rattling the bones to see if they will speak. I thought I was the lighthouse but instead I was the siren. Now all my sailors are howling in pain and I did not bring them home. So what do you do with that? I cut out my own tongue just to prove I was comfortable with silence. It did not heal the old wounds. It did not bring back the dead. The bones did not speak, still they have not spoken. I wrote a letter proclaiming myself clean. I forged the signature of saints hung it on my wall like a diploma and laughed into the mirror for hours. All this to say that I am the thing that happens to glass before it shatters, I am that particular impact. In the blue light before dawn I change skins. I become a creature you would recognize. Are you listening?  I am the light glittering rainbows upon the shards of your most battered dreams. I am that particular danger. I tried to tell you. What I mean to say is - can you forgive me?

K. Stocker (shewantedstorms), after Emma Bleker