It's hard to see you cling to the idea of a man,

A steady dragging of ideals through a comfortable mud, 

Setting no boundaries except for testing your trivial limits;

How pissed off can I get about this unfinished laundry 

though it stems from larger problems? Etc.

I see suppressed passion for a world outside of his.

I see promises floating away from you,

& a warped sky that lets them pass through.

I see how easy it is for you to not see at all.

If I fall in love with another writer,
I might die in adjectives.
We might be too many Christmas lights.
We could write novels over minor details 
& already over analyze the future. 
We could fall like heavy shadows on the ground.
But. 
We might make music want to write for us.
We could be the stars spearing through the dark.
We could be sex made of sunshine & lightning.
We could curl up in each other's words 
& fall deeply 
for the way they're animated. 

.Laura Curren.









Tie me up with the 
curls of the smile that I have 
when I talk to you.

.Laura Curren. 

Passion is a fun friend of mine

     We can stay up late

     & touch each other 

     until we can't think or speak.

     We can escape into ideas,

     forget everything to remember each other.

     But I could never call you at 2 am 

     when my thoughts are strangled around 
     the strange concept of self esteem,

     energy fueled by trusting myself.

     I could never ask you to hold my hand when I'm nervous, 

     to calm me not with an orgasm,

     but with a voice that undresses my worries

     & allows me to see them for what they really are.

     I could never ask you

     to hold everything I carry,

     the aftermath. 

     I could fuck you until I'm hungry 

     but I could never ask you to stay for breakfast. 

       .Laura Curren.

In a surreal way,
I remember talking about some very real things.
I remember looking at you from across the couch,
seeming like miles away,
but here all at once,
again.
You had been gone a long time
& I was just starting to end
lingering thoughts of you...
But your memory hit me 
like an unexpected sting
& then there you were,
on my couch,
Telling me you had been miles away
& you had felt that way
but you're here now
all at once,
again.