I love the emotion, that poets like Alysia Harris puts into their work, it rips you apart, shattering beliefs you thought you had and building you back in images you never thought you would experience. I mean with lines such as ’ Remember that time in the shower you put soap in both your hands, you asked me to wash your face for you, you could have placed my hands anywhere but you put them right below your eyes and at that moment you first forgot about fucking me and fell in love facing me, but pretty soon that quickly changed. You wanted to know why we couldn’t just lay down in the dark to be one without thought, of what this would make us in the morning and I wanted to know why you couldn’t just put aside your dick and your addictions why you wouldn’t just try so we expired prematurely,you came too early and left too quickly.".
She has this beautiful poetic flow but can still be so raw and honest.
"Love Sweat And Tears"
The slink of desire oozed its way under the door,we were in there alright, neatly tied up in sailors knots, of arms around thighs. Hope propped up on hip bones, knees around waist the taste of you, full blown and wild, the darkness melted away from us until we broke like dawn but always needed a fix by dusk. You on me was water on eel, blackbird dipped in sky, much more metaphor yet never quite as dry as paint could get but that’s alright because you liked me wet, you showed me there was a sunrise squeezed vertical in between my bottom lips and you never failed to greet that sun with a good morning kiss.
Always slipping me out of my razorback dress, every touch was razor blade accurate. Every touch was true serum, as if you wanted to watch me come clean, or better yet, just watch me come wiped clean with your sweat whispering what next into the valley of the shoulder neck I nested in, clothes were only the beginning, you made me wanna jump out of my skin and in the morning you helped me zip back into myself again but the best part of my day, baby, was always ,when you melted like a cigarette into my ashtray pelvis, back then I could count on your nicotine for anything,
you thick, black, and mild, me your Virginia slim and I puffed on you like cpr, trying to figure out just what we are, but truth be told, you never touched me like that.
Truth be told, I wanted to wait and you weren’t really ok with that, remember that time in the shower you put soap in both your hands, you asked me to wash your face for you, you could have placed my hands anywhere but you put them right below your eyes and at that moment you first forgot about fucking me and fell in love facing me but pretty soon that quickly changed. You wanted to know why we couldn’t just lay down in the dark to be one without thought, of what this would make us in the morning and I wanted to know why you couldn’t just put aside your dick and your addictions why you wouldn’t just try so we expired prematurely, you came too early and left too quickly. So when people ask me at least I can still claim my virginity but I still miss you every morning.
I wasn’t quite ready to see you march, after all you were a dandelion mid January, a wish in winter, I thought maybe you would build us a fire in the middle of all the snow, teach these hollow boys how to wood and you could get this girl to glow, I thought maybe I wouldn’t have any more need for candles or boyfriends made out of wax that always quickly burned out, I thought maybe I could put to rest this flickering heart.
I know it sounds odd but in the pitch dark, with the lights dimmed down to blind, I used to trace the outline of your face in case I wouldn’t see you for a while, I haven’t seen you in a while.....
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