The Future


Emotions are moist thoughts
slippery, wet, salty
Thick with fear
and uncertainty

(The way everyone feels about their future)

Except for one sunny morning, when everything feels

Fear tastes like steel railing at bus stops,
where woman sweat into the folds of their yellow dresses
(bought on sale)
and sway to the beat of a curving road

Emotions are moist thoughts
that swim through your mind
like eels in muddy ponds
that slip through fingers

You won’t understand this poem,
I don’t expect you to.
Just the way you don’t understand why you feel sad
on quiet nights when the stars bloom
and shiver

Or why you love her,
why your thoughts are consumed about the way she smells
or the way his eyes close
his eyelids flutter,
spiky wet.

You won’t understand this poem.

Anger tastes like hot melted sugar
burning the tip of your tongue and sticking to your fingers
in long crisp strands

You won’t understand why you loved him then,
Or hate him now
Or wanted her then
Love tastes like raspberries
floating in sweet wine
swollen with bloody juice
that drips down your lips

You wont understand this poem
The way you don’t understand
Why you cry sometimes
And tell no one

Why do we love who we love when we love?

Posted in Poetry.


  1. I resonate with this.

    Love is not a capacious palace
    With space enough for all of you
    And another too.

    Love is a dingy little room
    With space enough for one
    And one makes room for two.

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