Ris(k)ing

What is this longing rising inside me?

Is it for you,

or simply for what we could be?

The pain

in my chest

g r o w s tighter

as I let the potential

overtake my present.

Do I dare ask for a hug, (more)

though I risk

pushing my imagination too far,

to places it has no right to go,

though I risk

pushing the

line between

this beautiful friendship and the unknown.

You cross my mind

a million times a day.

Well, maybe not a million,

but enough to know

there will be a scar

when I/you leave.

Even now,

leaving has left

a bitter taste

on my tongue,

right next to the cut

from when I bit off

more than I could chew,

and directly behind the burn

from the last time I gulped

before I let this feeling cool.

Do I even know you?

Do you think you know me?

Why am I always rushing this,

five steps ahead in my brain?

Why is this so complicated,

hidden,

unsettling?

But the racing of my heart reminds me why

I’ve been waiting so long for this moment of uncertainty.

And I will wait again,

if you’re not the one

meant to face this moment with me.

Camouflage - A Poem of Low Fashion

Congratulations.

You finally look

like everyone else.

The purpose of you camouflage

escapes me;

especially since you believed them

when they said it would make you

less invisible.

So leave your socks at home

(even if you lose your toes to frostbite).

Forget your pants

but don’t forgo your heels.

Coordinate wisely,

and then cover it all

with a trench

to keep them guessing.

It’s just camouflage anyway.

Owned - A Poem of High Fashion

I wear their brand on my chest

and my underpants.

Even the brand rebels have the brands they represent:

band brands and skater brands,

Chic and Chateau couture.

The Gap between the Garage and the Gucci

grows wider with every year.

Wear them or you're not worthy.

Display your id.

In or out.

But don't ever be caught without,

even on weekends,

in your sweats.

Cause they're watching.

You've been branded.

They own you.