cringe

6.25.17

it’s not infrequent i cringe

at myself in the mornings

the night before fuzzy like a plastic magnifying glass

i can’t seem to shake you

i can’t seem to hold onto me

long enough, strong enough

to fully break free

in the morning with sobriety pulling back the sleep from my eyes

i cringe at what i see, what i’ve become

and heavy is the weight of it all

so by nightfall

i slip back into you, back into drink

back into the safety of your plastic promises

 

©2017 erin hoffman – all rights reserved

blossom

6.19.17

i can feel your body walking

away from this world

soft steps across the calm lake surface

your horizon fading and we all watch

the moon and darkness overtake the skies

in the morning

when you no longer walk this earth

your footprints will blossom into a million wild flowers

 

©2017 erin hoffman – all rights reserved

distant

you are not always my favorite past-time…

there are those days

when the blue skies stretch endlessly

and i get lost among all the blades of grass outstretched and dancing

the wind carrying me effortlessly from past to present…

if I told you you were just a metaphor and all

the scars carried over from past lovers

was just an analogy for how

i crave my lovers extinct and distant

would you look for your own blade of grass to get lost in

or maybe

you’d try to make my bruises your home

or maybe you’d

just sit back under outstretched blue skies

and mistake my scar-tissued body for

the softness of fresh grass under bare feet

 

 

©2017 erin hoffman – all rights reserved

infuse

(5.27.17)

our bodies are like magnets and when i don’t resist you its because i know i’m powerless against the pull we have towards each other

the way our lips feel pressed against each other

the way we move in unison

the way i infuse you and you invade me….

it’s too much to resist

so i give in and in the moment, it makes sense there’s no way to say no

so each time my body sees yours…

each time our eyes lock on each other and i feel my body aching for you to set it free…

i give in and i’m left wondering…

am i slowly dying or am i slowly coming back to life?

 

 

©2017 erin hoffman – all rights reserved

radiate

(5.29.17)

there was a way my smile seemed to

radiate from the inside out

like the secret of how we felt together – wrapped up in each other, having each other

was a secret the universe created just for us

but…

the smile faded and when deep pain wasn’t there,

she finally understood the secret

was just having for that moment, that sweet brief moment

relief from all she feared

 

 

©2017 erin hoffman – all rights reserved

reprieve

this can never happen again…

i know i am a bad

decision you make when drunk –

my body a momentary reprieve

i must taste as sweet as bourbon in your mouth

the way you seem to crave me and flee me…

in the morning you’ll whisper promises to yourself

this can never happen again

this can never happen again

you swish those words in your mouth like ice cubes melting

my bite marks a hangover etched into your skin

this can never happen again

this can never happen again

 

 

©2017 erin hoffman – all rights reserved