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Caseyana Culotta Poem
i never want to stop learning you
i hope i never get you down to a science
some days i am an engineer
i check your structure for flaws
and find none
i find myself marveling
at your architecture with my hands
tracing the curves
perfect, planned, and finite.
i did not make you what you are
you are a cathedral
built for me alone
to pray at.
i never knew god until
you touching me;
me touching you.
i am nearly fluent in you
i use words,
combinations of words
i form them
into sentences that i had never spoken
until i learned your correct diction.
the language of you quickly became
the language of us,
it is only you and i
with this particular dialect
our words put together
with effortless cohesion
form phrases so beautiful
i cannot tell if they are being
spoken or sang.
sometimes your love letters
are written in sheet music or maybe
thats how they seem to me.
everything about you reminds me
of a symphony.
it has been suggested to take my time
so i have.
loving you is not a four year degree
in fact
there is no definite end.or goal.
i am a life time student
at your discretion, my dear.
as long as i continue to learn,
i am yours.
today i learned
there are a minimum of 47 words
synonymous with love.
i am positive i will need more
in order to continue loving youk
Copyright © Caseyana Culotta | Year Posted 2023
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Details |
Caseyana Culotta Poem
Baltimore,
again.
8 AM, sweating, shaking
on the verge of puking up
stomach acid.
the car is dead silent.
are we early?
are they late?
is this how its going to be
forever?
who knows.
who cares.
i’ve been watching time
pass and slip through
the cracks between my fingers.
it seems more apparent
than usual.
we are parked at a gas pump.
each time i make eye contact
its quickly broken.
i know what they are thinking.
‘what a shame.’
‘my morning could be worse.’
maybe they even feel
gratitude.
as they finish filling up,
i watch them reach for
their phones.
i wonder if they are calling
their daughters and sons.
on the surface,
just to check in.
but inwardly,
thankful their children
aren’t heroin addicts.
no one wants their baby to grow up
to be
a junkie.
i steal a glance at my other half
she’s ill
but she’s beautiful.
she’ll feel better soon enough.
a young handsome black man
starts over
and my heart
skips a beat.
we exchange currency
for oblivion.
we drive away to find
somewhere to hit.
it feels like
my first kiss.
i can’t remember what makes me happy anymore.
my happiness is
artificial
and fits nicely
in a syringe.
when i get on,
i can breathe again.
i melt into the passenger seat,
successful.
i watch her try to find a vein,
in and out of consciousness.
she’s millimeters away from getting well.
she’ll get there.
i let myself nod but
for a moment,
i wonder
what that young, handsome black man
wanted to be
when he grew up.
i guess it doesn’t matter.
everyone crosses paths at the bottom.
Copyright © Caseyana Culotta | Year Posted 2023
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Details |
Caseyana Culotta Poem
I had to admit that it was different.
Part of me feels like we needed to reconnect in order to facilitate a proper goodbye
and not admit to ourselves that it was idealized.
We deserved that, at least
I had missed her but
when I touched her
the ghost of the hands of another reminded me that she left
She left with the intention of never coming back.
She had left.
She had left me.
I loved her and maybe always will
Only loving her this time didn't feel like a sacrifice
I loved myself just enough to notice
When we moved together our bodies were the same but
contrived or not she tried to teach her heart to beat for another
She left.
Sleeping beside her reminded me of sleeping without her
Hearing her apologize only reminded me of what she was sorry for
The fact was she had left me and she couldn't un-leave me.
For the remainder of the time we would spend together
When she left a room I couldn't help but think of what it felt like when she didn't come back
Even when she brushed her teeth, I was reminded her toothbrush still probably sat in a holder of someone else's sink.
I tried to love her but not fearlessly like I had in the past
because I wondered what it would have meant for me.
I refused to find out what it may have meant for my soul to knowingly live in a haunted house
Copyright © Caseyana Culotta | Year Posted 2023
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