by Mia Moscato
*du, duh* I *du, duh* love*du, duh* this,
But it’s not like that,
In fact, I wonder if you’re ears are keen enough to hear when my heart aches.
And, no worries, I’m not in-love.
I don’t need to be in love for my heart to break.
Just like you don’t need to be fat to love cupcakes.
But it’s every time I look at you and see things I cannot touch
when you’re sitting right beside me and I still miss you so much.
You’re like the heroin I can’t give up.
But you make me miss the good, no strings attached, uncomplicated thing I had.
Because you’ve turned into my comrade that I have sex with.
I want to get inside you, but clearly I need to be a locksmith.
And my fingers aren’t that nimble,
They’re quite clumsy in fact.
It’s my tongue that’s eloquent,
so I hope you can understand that.
I don’t need another friend with benefits.
I already have one,
her name is Diana.
Love Cost
The rain feels right today…
And as the thoughts race through my mind on cognitive freeways,
I. Feel. Lost.
Sitting here trying to recount my pennies and refund my love cost.
But they tell me,
“No restitution, only exchange with original packaging
within 60 days of purchase.”
So I subtract back, realizing that it’s only been 55 days,
And I can return this broken girl,
She’s defective and tortuous,
And I don’t think I really want her anymore.
But when they check my receipt and pull up the record,
They say,
“Well Miss, we can exchange her for you, yes,
But you’ve exchanged quite a few,
Tarra, Melissa, and Leydi too.
Did you ever think that maybe they're not broken?
Maybe it’s just you?”
Unsettled, I take my shit back.
But I can’t say that didn’t hit a nerve.
So as I take my seat on my emotional Amtrak
I wonder if this was all well-deserved.
I have 5 more days to make up my mind
Trade her in for another refurbished girl,
Or I can keep you,
Remind myself that I can always replace the girl,
But I can never change the situation.
By now, there will always be previous owners,
Who were careless with their gifts and didn’t keep them safe.
Dropping them a few times and thinking they would still be ok.
I might have been one of them.
So it’s only natural that I would get you now,
Still in the pieces she tore you into.
I can put you back together again,
though I won’t promise you’ll be like new.
We both are pretty invested,
Time, emotions and feelings spent.
None of them went unmeant.
So as I stare at my receipt,
Reading the fine print on my return policy,
Cigarette butts gathering up in ashtrays,
I wonder if all the goods from this store will inevitable be blemished in some way,
And should I stop looking at the wrongs? Just focus on what’s right.
Because despite the missing pieces,
I still enjoy taking her out of the box every night.
Mon Miel d'Étoiles
When she’s gone,
I miss her comme la lune manque des étoiles, as the moon misses the stars,
Like a writer misses words,
Like my lungs miss air.
My heart wasn’t meant for the wear and tear
of my ravenous mind.
Sweetheart,
come explore me when you have the time.
Mon miel d'étoiles, My honey of stars
You have this visceral beauty that makes me whole
Stirs me down to my soul.
With you, my love,
I never feel exposed.
You are my safety net.
Mon miel d'étoiles
Rain on the Tin Roof
I want to lay with you as the rain from many thunderstorms hits the tin roof.
Graph my hand down the coordinates of your anatomy and
Transition to be your symmetry
Off the coast of somewhere beautiful,
As the waves crash into our digits
The sound of your breathing and crickets,
Wash over me.
There aren’t enough minutes in this world,
To spend my time buried in your curls.
I thirst to stare at the stars
Wishing upon fallen quasars,
That you’ll lie beside me forever and a day,
I need never to be at bay nor want anything more than,
To kiss you gingerly on your eyelids and
Lace my extremities with yours in the streets of Chueca, Madrid.
You are my pleasant disposition
Yearning to always rub against you like friction
I use to believe adulation like this was only true in fictions
You’ve broaden my vocabulary, improved my diction in the languages of affection
I drown in you like oceans,
Every last one of your intricate emotions…memorized.
I want to catch and capture you like fireflies.
Never to be aloof.
Because you are my rain on the tin roof.
Yesterday
This constant feeling of our resolution troubles me as I sleep.
Though ‘sleep’ isn’t the right utterance; my consciousness never thoroughly
suspends whenever I lay in bed beside you.
Anxiety keeps me vigilant,
yet apprehension keeps me silent.
This all seems too posthaste.
Because just yesterday I couldn’t look at you with a straight face; you made me laughbecause you said you loved my smile.
And just yesterday your fingers would graph with mine and it wasn’t only as we made
love.
And yesterday you would kiss me just because.
Silly me.
I hoped that maybe I had found something with you.
And
I hoped that maybe you thought that you had found something with me too.
And for a while, I thought I had done something wrong
Or
Maybe I’m a placeholder and you’re just waiting for something better to come along.
So now I sit besides you,
And there is no laughter anymore.
Barely any words.
Just scarce emails and text messages…(and even those seem ushered)
Confirming times for us to be together because that’s what we think is suppose to happen
But there’s no more passion behind your eyes.
And I’ve been through this ere so I really don’t have the time
to pursue you and pick your brain
and find out why today isn’t just like yesterday.
Modern Art
At a loss for words most days
Because most days I just want to stare.
Stare at you until your cheeks glow red with embarrassment and flattery.
I want to thank whoever created you and placed you in this world gallery.
Reminiscent of every famous painting every created since the first artist picked up a paint brush
I am now inspired to revisit all the museums I never liked much.
Just to find a way to describe you.
Self portraits: a specialty of Rembrandt
I find the best of myself when I look at you.
The way light hits the curve of your honey iris
can only be described in the water lilies of M
onet
I find faith in something I stopped believing in
like when three Magi visited Jesus on the twelfth day.
a moment so powerful that 96 artist have recreated the scene
including Bosch, Rubens, Lippi, and da Vinci
I see strength in you
even when you don’t see it in yourself.
bright among the shadows like el tres de mayo by de Goya
Soft femininity and veiled sexuality radiates
Similar to o' keeffe's Black Iris, I would place you in my foyer
Filled with elements of surprise and unexpected juxtapositions
you are everything surreal
evolving into abstract expressionism
when I look at you, sometimes I don't know how I feel.
You're a beautiful mess
Jackson Pollock's No. 5
taking you in
I like to take my time
there's not one thing that stands out about you
because everything is important
I find myself taking one step back
only to take two steps forward
Forever waiting on a call from MoMA, the Met or Guhhenheim asking to buy you
ive never created something so divine
after 4 years of art high school
How did I get so lucky,
to come across such a masterpiece
Adding on to you sort of feels like blasphemy
like you were commissioned by the church
But I promise to only add good strokes
restore you, and show you your true worth.
Never letting you fall apart.
Keeping you forever, it my personal gallery of Modern Art
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