Inflorescence and juju

The natural way says certain things are meant to be, like the rising of the sun, the ebbing of the tide, even the whorl of flowers around a stem. So when two people come together, I can't help thinking, Yes, of course. His hand like an amulet, her body like a charm. They are made in this fashion for a reason, as beautiful and inevitable as the flight of an eagle. They are made to feel and act, and they are made to breathe and bleed. Take from them what you will, because you can never take that.

Forlorn

I become forlorn when I see that look in his eyes, that one that says he's getting angry with me. It's like feeling an ocean in my heart all at once, and desperately wanting not to drown. But can there be a way to swim without betraying my instinct to float? Not everything is about making it back to land; sometimes I want the shore to come to me.

Clairvoyance

You say I'm smart, but it isn't like that. I just trust my gut when it tells me what I ought to know, because I feel the fear and I respect it. Maybe there's no safety net, no trail of crumbs to lead me back, but maybe I'm not afraid of getting lost. This journey is a welcome adventure, and though it could go anywhere, on the way there I walk with you. That's all I need to be okay: your voice, your hand, your truth.

Coagulate

Secrets run thick and dark like blood. Coagulation is a temporary fix.

Carpaccio, windlestraw, and aquacade

You slice me open, into thin, raw pieces, to make my devourment that much easier. But don't you know that I already go crazy for you during the day? I doodle your name as if it's the same as having you here with me. I'm a blade of grass and you are the wind: I bend whichever way you blow. It's a spectacle, an embarrassment, I know, but when you are what you are, you do what you do, and you just hope you don't get cut down along the way.

Midcult, tisane, and f-stop

Aren't you supposed to be a high-brown, high-class, big head, no ass, super cultured know-it-all in real nice clothes? Then why can't you stop saying "like"--your bourgie self still shows. Drink some tea, it'll change your mind, it'll cure your mental disease: arrogance is such a trip, watch your step, don't fall, don't please. The F-stop comes right before U on the line to eternity, so smile for the camera because this is the last shot you'll ever get at me.

Dolor

En sueños rojos tú lavas mi corazón de las lastimas de los años pasados. No tengo idea de por qué ni cómo, pero has conquistado mi voluntad. Siempre hay dudas, y siempre harán dudas; es la manera de ser humana. Pero día por día tú cambias mi mente y me guardas en tus brazos.

Contretemps

The unfortunate ways in which we forget how to pay the dues we owe each other make me wonder how long this train is and what's on the other side. We're in the pines, in the pines, in this obscure hopeful forest of dreams and breezes and song. But can we live and sleep alone when our dreams are coalescing? Every boy and every girl thinks they know who they are, but in reality, we're all lost and we're all one and we're all destined to fall somehow.

Pythonic

You're the snake, the traitor, the prince, the beast. Cast your spell then break her heart, and you're no worse for the wear. Well, I can tell you this, you fool: you'll never find another like her. She was the best you ever had -- emphasis on the past tense (isn't she glad!). You will search for eternity, a thirsty man in a desert, because she was the only true oasis you were ever going to get. But now she's gone (you know it's your fault) and you're stuck with your mirages (you get what you deserve).

Plantar

Step on these fateful lines and we'll see what side you end up on. Things have always been so easy for you, even when your life was at its worst. I just didn't want to tell you. You never could handle having it good.

Gargantuan

These candied lies melt like chocolate on my tongue. We both have all these reasons, but I'm beginning to doubt our reasoning. Trust is like gold; it meets under fire, and I'm afraid truth burns the brightest flame. What will the spectators say when they find the games have been staged? Will they riot, or just laugh and live on? I don't know the answer, and that's the rub, the golden ticket, the turn of the screw. But you watch my back and I'll watch you. I suppose in the end that's all we can do.

Padre

No excuses, you say, like it's just that simple. Well, let me tell you, son, you don't know everything. I've seen truths you wouldn't believe, and the stories you hear aren't as clear-cut as you've been led to think. The devil isn't always so bad, and the angel's words can deceive just as much as her pretty, pretty face. So take one look in the mirror and tell me what you see: more of her, or, let's be honest, more of me?

Dolce vita

I seize the day like you seize my throat and urge me to speak. You laugh while I cry, and I struggle with my self-indulgence. I'm old enough to know better, but too nice to stop. You're too old to change, and mean enough to enjoy it. You think you've got me all figured out but there's so much you never care to see. I think I've got you all figured out but half of that's just what I want you to be. He may never say he loves me, but at least he shows he cares.

Nummular

Underneath the lighter hues, her hair resembles the darkest bark of the grand sapote tree. She traveled many days to get here, days beleaguered by rain and thunder, and other hardships of the road. But she never stopped. Sometimes sprinting, sometimes walking; sometimes skipping, sometimes crawling; always she was determined to get here. She knew that though the path seemed circular, she was constantly moving forward. She listened only to the wind at night, the wise old wind who told her stories. She slept merely to regain her strength, so that she might continue on. She dreamt only of this place. Now she has arrived, and at long last she may taste the fruit. Its sticky sweet juices will run down her chin and coat her neck and tingle on her skin, but that matters not, for she has arrived, and at long last she may taste the fruit.

Ghana

Deep in the African jungle, she said. Carry me down to the water. Wash me in the deep blue waves and then bring me back again. We'll sing a song and sleep under the stars and live for a hundred years. The golden age is near at hand if you're willing to chance it again. That much I can promise you. That much, I know, is real.

Sesquipedalian

Intimate embraces. The things we do but don't say, feel but don't share. The ghosts that linger in the room whenever we're both there. The echoes of your pleasure, my surprise. The trace of your chest, my thighs. The look on your face, my eyes. They can try to define it, with big words or small, new terms or old, but in the end, it doesn't make a difference. All I need to know is you. All I need to be definite is you.

Metronome

Trying not to take offense. Every day is like this. Isn't it? Back and forth, back and forth, good and bad, good and bad. We rise and fall, go to and fro, like the steady beat of a metronome. You push, I pull. You retreat, I attack. But there is no battle. Only motions, full and empty. Words, full and empty. Glasses, full and empty.

Laconic

The shepherd's breath was magic. When he spoke, those who heard thought they were listening to music. When he breathed in the cold, the puff of air in front of him turned to diamonds and fell at his feet. When he kissed a woman, she transformed into the most beautiful version of herself. Yes, his breath was magic, and for that reason this humble shepherd spoke little, stayed indoors, and loved no one. His special life was a lonely one. Until...

Dilly-dally

A little girl wastes her time dreaming of a little boy who will steal her heart away, with ponies and poems, and houses and hopes, and three scoops of cherry ice cream. Someday she'll grow up and take care of herself, and either get or do away with those things. And although by then she'll know that she doesn't need any man, the woman won't be able to forget the little girl's happy dreams.

Distich

You take me away from the times when I know what I am all about. You've changed all my expectations. I'm not sure whether I'm wrong or right, day or night, hot or cold, young or old. Something tells me I'm in between: the middle ground, the shades of grey, the little things you do and say. Nothing quite as it seems. Distich, dipstick, big mistake. The progressions don't make sense to me. I try to not fear everything I hear, but when you're near my head's not clear. Nor is my heart. Where is my heart? I've gotta have heart.