When his eyes paused
my heart stopped
as he gazed,
that same, sweet, long stare
of some astral,
universal appreciation,
just to my right
just to my right
he casts his deep, dark eyes
endless as the night sky
just a few feet away,
crinkling and laughing
sparkling and dancing,
filled with stars,
just to my right
just to my right
what has captivated his
beautiful, convoluted,
secretive mind,
just to my right?
“Your earring”,
he says, “is pretty.”



The lights flickered out
summer night
candles and folding fans
lightning bugs and thunderstorms
won’t you tell me a story
won’t you speak in your low voice
through this darkness
through this warm night?
would you hold me in your
would you treasure me
in the echoes of
your heartbeat?

“So tell me…”

does my hair smell like
herbal baths
or my breath
last night’s 막걸리?
your eyes burn stronger
than my pounding head
my throbbing heart
you read my face
because I wanted to look
in your soul, because
when I come here I’m
not in front of
unknown faces, I am
dancing in your warm gaze,
I am breathing
beyond this space,
and into your essence,
what restaurants do you visit and
which bars do you frequent
are you the class of 2007
or 2009?
why did you come here
to the City of Light?
does it need you to shine?
that’s a bad pickup line…
I sit here silent as you speak and
ask me what’s on my mind
if only you knew
converse highs and
bright pink cheeks, finally someone
who doesn’t mind
me opening my mouth.

Stranger’s Funeral

In my red polka dot dress
so embarrassing
I’m too Southern for this
I know my manners
now my face is the same
tone of red
ripe summer tomato
where all I’ve been
what all I’ve seen
the more at the funeral
the more blessed she was
he said
and I remember how I was
short shorts in the warm night
his burning, needy eyes
I knew
next to
I was
next to
I’m super sorry but
I keep making mistakes
so I need to run away
and stop finding
these kinds of places.

long road lover

what if i want to
smother you
in the words of my mouth,
on a long night
do i encase it in the air,
or the flash of synapses
in my brain
and send it to you on the dawn?

what if i need to
hold you and stroke your hair,
hear your breath
and catch your eyes
to prove it,
do i force my fingers into
ink strokes
and through
glowing screens
to reach your body?

do you really
feel me?
it’s not enough
the five love languages
declared mine not to be
physical touch,
yet this
is not
for my love.

Super Glue

I gave up on NaPoWriMo this year because I simply lack all form of inspiration. But today I wrote this kind of sad poem. Anyway. 

In the late summer
I saw you lying there
across from me
in the soft darkness
of a Seoul night,
you, a gray phantom
and I reached out to touch
your narrow back
covered in heather flecked slate,

but I shouldn’t,
you couldn’t love me
even now I am imagining
the starry eyed confession
you might give to me,
the sinful, volatile,
explosion that is my
over sexed and over thought
sense of self,
educated yet never studious
how could I?

I pull back the hand
which threatens to
collide and
crash and
super glue
the universes of my
perpetual coldness and
your invisible warmth,
if only I was still the girl
I was when I was
still me,
and she’s still not good enough
for you.