Damage & Joy (Gorgeous Clxt)

She has the face of a pristine
angel.
And a heavenly, swollen, strong,
smooth, suave, sweet,
feminine power clxt.

And that’s about where the
alignment of our
hearts and minds ended.
Her narcissism liked my passionate
attraction to her.
My servant soul liked giving
into and pleasing her.

But we were able to do
quite a lot
with just these elements;

lots of damage
and lots of joy.

The Mistress Of My Love & My Fk

My love, she brings me violets
from her garden.
They wither and hang on.
She sneaks around her husband
to kiss me on the side street
behind the bar.

My fk, she steals away from her
girlfriend around midnight
once a week.
She used to be my love,
but now we just fck.
She knows about my new love and
her heart aches a little cuz she knows
I’ll always be loved somewhere
in between.

A transwoman halfway between
commitment and a promise,
half a human to most people,
except the few women who let me
exist with their breaths,
then I am whole only cuz
the two of us are
whole together,
holding each other’s corporeal
souls.

They know me more than
halfway
then.
They believe they are alive
in ways they’ve never lived.

Just Fkd

Sometimes I just wanna be fkd.

Just wanna be laid back naked

with my tits bouncing around,

her on top

and her tits hanging out

freely and swinging,

hands clutched together,

knuckles locked to knuckles,

her clxt swollen, hard, and huge,

pounding my perineum

til she cums…

til she cums

and I lose my breath,

lost in my mind,

lost in my soul,

lost in the ocean of the universal soul,

evicerated in desire,

renewed and reborn through

love, lust, and trust.

Moon Glowed

The moon with her glow,

I hid from her light

but she called me anyways

from out of my home

and into the night.

Her crushed tinsel dress

shining on high.

My lips found her thighs

and my eyes, bashful

but entranced,

afraid to look up to her

iconic face and powerful grace.

Her crepulescent lips

burning,

waiting, they spoke without words,

as they professed

they wanted, they needed my kiss.

She called me home for our

midnight embrace,

entwined and attune,

two women f@&$ing each other.

Two eons salvaged,

two eras made,

one whole age announced,

only one age now

from hence this time writ.

Scary

It’s a scary thing to admit,

maybe a scary thing to feel,

although physically, it feels

really good to get there.

Often these days, very late at night,

after I’ve done like eight

or nine lines of coke,

I’m able to finally lay there and

feel calm,

feel cool,

feel loved,

forget about you,

forget who you are,

forget that you exist,

forget that you no longer love me,

and then I’m able to

dumbly, mindlessly, numbly,

fall asleep and sleep good,

sleep in peace.

People don’t typically think of

cocaine working this way

and maybe that’s why this is

scary…

that this is what it’s evolved to.

This is what love is to me now.

Sapphic Love

Sapphic love heals us.
Us women.
Cisgender and transgender
women.
It heals us from the
trauma of patriarchy.
The marginalizing.
The containment.
The — you should be like this
kind of stuff.
We’ll be however we want to be
together, woman to woman,
in this space.
It it is sweet and kind.
Non-judgmental.
It’s a safe space,
a tender space,
my ladies.
God, my fellow ladies.
This chest to chest stuff.
This lips to lips stuff.
This hard stuff.
This soft stuff.
This trustful stuff.

It heals.
God, it heals.

The Cats Who Loved Me

I miss the two cats who

loved me deeply.

I tried my best to do the same

for them and I believe I loved them

deeply as well.

They’re gone now.

They’re both dead.

And I live alone.

I talk to them still from time

to time.

Empty voices in a wooden house.

I feel them here with me.

Or want to feel them here.

Or need to feel them here.

Maybe you’ve had a pet or

a lover or a loved one before

who’s no longer there;

either deceased or moved on?

Maybe you can relate to this

kind of vacant feeling?

And maybe, just as I,

you still hope and believe

in something…

because you have been loved

bigly.

There Again

I won’t go there again.
I won’t.
It will be avoided.
I hate it.
I don’t like having to avoid
a place,
but I will.
The road you live on won’t
exist in my world.
I won’t go by your house
hoping and dreaming and
angry
late at night.
Looking at your window,
knowing the mass of coiled
gold hair mess behind it.
I can’t.
I’ll choose emptiness and
also fullness with strangers,
with the moonlight above
country fields near our town
cuz it is late and I’m lonely
and I drove out there to
breathe the scent of oak trees
instead.
I want your scent, body heat,
curves, accidental brush
of soft skin and your
muffled snores.
Sometimes I’ll blow coke,
lots of it,
and it will comfort me,
a hall of poets and angels
gathered.
But some other nights I won’t.
Sometimes I’ll just lay still
in my bed with the watercolor
painting of midnight on the
walls,
feel my passionate heartbeat,
strong and rigorous but also soft,
and I’ll just be still,
knowing stillness in night
while awake
is sacred.
Us ushering ourselves to the
hall of death.

I want to be tough, but more
importantly,
I want to be honest.
So I will.
That is how I’m going to live.

Angel Of Color

The Angel fell upon me.

And how she laid across me

she looked like a fallen angel.

So I raised her up, uplifted her.

Her breasts met

the morning light.

God saw this and God created

color.

The blue of day was born.

God gasped, God was overwhelmed.

God gave up.

God gave the colors and the day

back to all of us.

So as the angel breathed out

she shared sacredness with me

and everyone else.

Knowing we together on that

morning had reformed God,

the Angel gave me a dress of

dazzling color

that I wore to

Autumn’s banquet that evening.

She wants me to look like

the changing leafs.

I am a changer and I am

her woman.

The Wrong And Wrongly Done

I opened up someone

who should not be opened up.

She’s many thousands of

years,

maybe millions of years away

from being ready to be

opened up.

But I did it anyways

cuz that’s what I do;

flippant, curious, voracious.

And light and love

came violently screaming out

of her and pouring into her.

A being misunderstanding

their self,

misunderstanding my being.

Afterwards,

the oak trees called me

to them,

asked me what I had done and

why did I do it.

I said

it was for carnal earthen reasons.

And they conveyed,

oh star stuff Nova,

you still have so many ways

to grow and so many things

to learn.