Every time I
every time I
every time I start to
speak your
mouth is there and I’m
tired, love, I’m tired of
interruptions and
vignettes and
to be continueds can’t you
stay tonight, if that’s okay, tonight,
there’s no planet out there to
save, tonight.
There is a bed, and
my cold feet, and
my nose against the
back of your neck breathing
deep you make it so easy to
drift.
Every time I fall
to my
knees and ask you to
linger you are there
a hushing
finger and I’m
tired, moorless,
drifting can’t you
tether me,
to you,
just
tonight.
Tag: writing
Unexplored
There is little light
in our ocean tonight.
I must’ve loved you
for years now,
even though I’ve only known you
a month.
But you’ve got the sea in your mouth.
I wonder if you can taste it.
The salt grainy in the valleys
of your molars.
The tsunami building up
beneath your tongue
as your jaw shifts to let
all its roar out.
I know I must’ve loved you
because I was born in the sea,
because your waves have never scared
me.
Thoughts after reading Turtles All the Way Down
OCEAN GROWING
And in a strange and terrifying flutter of wings, or maybe in a wave wake of a ship, my first book is out in the world.
Ocean Growing, by Meghan Bennett, available on Amazon and Kindle now and 5ever. It’d mean the world to me if you got a copy, left a review, shared with a friend ❤ It's so daunting to put your heart out into the world, but here goes.
xx,
Meg.
Décembre
I’ve been hurting so many years now I’ve just taken to calling it
the universe keeping me on my toes.
Everyone else just calls it heartbreak.
What do you do, when muscle memory
only leads you back to tragedy?
Spare Change
“Favorite Song”
I know it’s late where you are but
God I wish you were awake I want to tell you about
the music and the stars and
running from the car to the hotel in the freezing wind
you are from a place with lots of trees and red brick but
I am from a place thatched from corn husks and dust and
I’ve always kind of thought it looked like
heaven and I’d like to show it to you, someday,
you’ve never seen clouds like we’ve got cause we’ve got
the whole entire sky stretched above us
and the kind of flatland that makes you want to
run and run and never stop running not even when your lungs
heave gasoline and your joints are stones sparking
fire that is how you know you are
seconds away from sprouting wings
just because I have spent my childhood sprinting
barefoot across asphalt does not mean I will bolt
as soon as the door cracks open it will simply mean I want you to
chase me follow me to the creeks I was baptised in the
parking lots I danced ballet in the
wind who taught me how to finally speak
for myself and to myself and maybe
to you if you would like to listen
it is my favorite song.
I know it is late but I will never stop
playing it, and if you’d like I will play it
for you.
Ice as Girl, Acrylic
Just Around the Bend
I once wrote a post about a nightmare I had had, and it was up on this site for all of twenty minutes before I deleted it. A friend told me it was too disturbing.
Capable
Salem
In Salem, Massachusetts, there is a courtyard dedicated to the women burned as witches. The grass never grows there. It is encircled by a low wall and lined by two dozen black marble benches, for these bodiless women to sit on, smooth their dresses, reflect, mourn. It looks like here. This shadowed grey courtyard tucked between two buildings in New York.
poetgoes 