on·ly odd num·bers
week i
her most lustful yet committed relationships involve dry-humored, curvy redheads
ushering them back to her place
sometimes taking in enjoyment without allowing them to ever escape the bounds of their prisons
their long necks letting out a joyous sound as they escape
and as she savors, they became witness to her truth
inviting friends to enjoy these moments
indulging in the serum that made way for confessions
-amh
week ii
“hidden”
that’s where records of you live in a digital realm
i want to put you in a similar realm in my mind
but humans aren’t machines
yet wouldn’t it be nice
to tuck our memories away and only take peaks
to feel that same bit of blissful sadness
for now, i’ll sit half drunk
relive our memories
-amh
week iii
how many times have you searched for yourself in their work
examined what they’ve created in search of familiar breadcrumbs
with hopes that the affection you fed them was enough to still sweat out of them
to drip down onto their definition of canvas
how many times have you reminisced a time when their impulse actioned you
a time when they echoed your creator
jealous of another’s genius
-amh
week iv
my mother once told me
“if it’s easy, you don’t want it”
she also told me
“not everyone wants to know the truth”
honestly,
i want them all
-amh
week v
during my second trip to paris my loathing of the place solidified, and the frenchman at my local trader’s joes was so turned on by himself that it turned me completely off. but during my second facetime call with a different frenchman he simply said “gorgeous” and when i casually replied, “huh?”… in an effort to not blush, he smirked, knowing exactly what i was trying to playoff. he admitted that he had to eat right before bed or he wouldn’t sleep well. this lead to his overshare of sometimes eating dinner at home in a robe completely naked underneath and my overshare of eating dinner at home in only a bra and underwear while sat on floor-cushions at my coffee table. he told me american drivers were terrible and when i replied “well i’ve been told by men that i’m a great driver” he replied with “okay little miss perfect, we don’t need to hear about your past lovers.” this banter made the dismissive insult of being called “little miss perfect”
perfectly flirtatious fiction.
-amh
week vi
it’s saturday
sitting here on my sofa
she comes in waves
with a sip of my coffee, a rush
eyes water as i smile
these tears are not of joy
they are the release of my depression
i live with her tucked away inside of me…most days
and other days i don’t only feel her, she relishes
i sometimes mourn her absence
it’s taken years to identify her
to separate her gestures from mine
her tears feel different in the corners of my eyes
-amh
week vii
you had me there
a crowded room
why not kiss me
-amh
week viii
1,000’s of miles carried her away from home to follow what she felt in her heart
and when romantic love failed her she turned her back on it
how do you casually tuck a poem about your grandmother in a sea of poems of love and lust
nanny was a wicked woman
she left her home for freedom
focused on family and lived the rest of her days falling in love
over and over and over again with her children, and then grandchildren and with her dying breath gave it all to the next
nanny was a wicked woman and wickedly, she loved
-amh
week ix
i hope you understood what i meant by “fundamentally different”
edit: you didn’t
-amh
week x
debating with him from 531 miles away felt pointless
this frustration-constructed passion
wasted away into my sofa
into the pure white walls of my apartment
they’ve seen too much
-amh
week xi
at 29 i finally told myself that on days when my body felt big,
the world would make room for her
that when my chest carried the weight of my pain
my eyes were allowed to relieve it
that, at certain points, i’d still feel like “the fool”
-amh
week xii
a possible post-nuptial high
familiar
stumbling from the elevator
lips locked
and in the morning, in bed next to you
was no stranger
-amh
week xiii
i was the reason. there’s the idea that at some point in your life you learn to love yourself and once this happens you are ready to love and be loved by others. but an important lesson that is commonly skipped, for those with depression that cope by surrounding themselves with friends and family, is learning to love yourself when you don’t feel the present love of others.
then, one summer/fall/winter you are forced into self isolation. you dig yourself into the hole that you’d normally ask for a hand to dig your way out of but your family is isolated with spouses, your friends sharing homes with significant-others.
so you, for the first time, lean into yourself. create a home for yourself, not bricked by human beings.
and when the ones around you are ready, to find you where they left you, you are no longer. what...who they find is you, but better.
solitude looks good on you
-amh
week xiv
to the virgin who would never admit i was his first, a woman knows
when a man is with her and his mind fills
with only gratitude, of allowing him this close
we know that in your “is this alright”
is not ever being told to pleasure yourself at a women’s expense
there’s purity, symbolized in your touch
-amh
week xv
i think she knows
in a moment of weakness, you half drunk
wanted to tell someone
…anyone…
about this time you day-dreamt of this woman
longed for her
then, something woke you
startled you into reality
but when your eyes watered, she knew
i was not daydream
-amh
week xvi
i cried in my kitchen that afternoon
you once my sky’s brightest star
hands dripping with soapy water i realized
sunburn hurts like a bitch
-amh
week xvii
it’s the feeling of their skin
the moment right before a kiss
desire causing friction between mouths like two north ends of a magnet
it’s eye contact
when words aren’t enough
-amh
week xviii
i suggest the same bar for every first date
at this point,
the only person i’m seeing regularly is the bartender
-amh
week xix
she leaned forward
arlene
told us how after falling in and then out
she fell back
a smirk grew
“we both grew”
and then fate, she brought them back
pt.2
-amh
week xx
i want to ask you about the portrait on your shoulder
i thought to be cold with you
but you drew intimate
said i was a lady
-amh
week xxi
to all the ones who have ever told me “i’m sorry, i wasn’t ready.”
i was exhausted
yet still, i found it in me to comfort you
pull you up by my collarbones and offer you whatever was left
-amh
week xxii
i’d like to recall every kiss
but some years ago a concussion would make sure that gaps in my memory persists
sometimes i wish the impact was enough to knock a few more loose
but they lingerie
faint
i can’t recall the details, but this mind holds longing tight in its grasp
-amh
week xxiii
you are everything i hate about the city i’m from
local weather places you in it’s margin
*unpredictable and new, yet at times treats you like shit and lies
-amh
week xxiv
romanticize your life for your own sake
you can write it if you want
-amh
week xxv
romanticize your life for your own sake
you can write it if you want
-amh