Love Jones

Every
now and then,
I get a
love jones
for your smell,
chemistry
broken down
to
the bits,
and
a saunter
into
all of the
in betweens
of
what we need
to
do to loosen
up
these
clothes.
I get
a
love jones
to
figure out
which button
to
start with first,
or
which lip
I need
to focus on
later.
If we’re
ready,
I’ll
even get a
love jones
to
piecemeal
our history
together,
only
to
repeat
those parts
that
blend
with our nowness
and
foreverness.
See,
what this
poet
means is
that
we didn’t just
appear
to
give
and receive love,
but
we
are the
very
thing
called love
through
and through.

M.C. Davis

On Being Grateful

The simple
things,
giving way
to our shared
fate,
are often the
most
grateful
moments
forgotten
by disappearing
days
that we grasp
for
in thin air.
Days
which dangle
loosely
in between
the New Mexican
sky and a shimmering
sunset,
we
have forgotten
how
to
close
our eyes
when we
kiss.
Our days
are
grateful,
since
they affect us
to
move
without thinking,
and
in
a sense,
they dictate
our moods
like
the moon does
when
she’s
in her right
frequency.
See,
let’s see
this gratefulness
for
what it is,
and
forgive
the love
that
went
missing
the day you
walked
out
of our door.

M.C. Davis

I Love You

I can
only imagine
the fear
that
you feel when I
say
that
I love you,
or caress your hair
with
two
fingers,
gently
giving you
the
warmth
that
you
haven’t disposed
of
yet.
The
night is strong
for
us,
giving us freedom
to
simply
exist
within
the shadows,
but
you
show only
the light
of
our errors,
mistakes,
and
moments
that
stretch deep into
the
trenches.
See,
I can
only imagine
the fear
that
you feel when I
say
that
I love you,
because
you
already know
I
mean it
for
another.

M.C. Davis

Switch

Let’s
switch roles,
and
let these moments
shift
in between
the
decision to be
one
way or
another,
then
let’s switch back
and
have a
discussion.

If
the Gods
allow, let’s
switch
roles, then
fold up
memories
inside
of memories,
and
then
take a deeper
walk
in between
the
noise
of the who
we
used to be.

Finally,
when
the days
have lingered enough,
let’s switch
roles,
and
then
maybe we’d
have the
chance
to
just
walk away from
all
of
this
before
we
even start again.

M.C. Davis

Upon Meeting You

Like two
souls
meeting
at a
crossroads,
we get
to
finalize this journey,
filled
to the rim
with
the questions
we already
know the answers
to,
and
our only fear
is
the thought of
losing
each other
in
the crosshairs again,
and
the layers
of
branches and roots
we had
to let go
to
find each
other.

Like
two souls
just
figuring
out
the distance,
we
are the luckiest
souls
in
the room
as
if we
never even
left.

M.C. Davis

The Missing

Sun-drenched,
we fell into
conversation,
like
the ocean does
to
another
ocean,
full of
the sea-life
and
other bright
things,
shimmying
into the
depths,
and letting
the coolness
of the deep
fill
every crevice.
We gave
way
to energy,
the sounds
of our own voices,
and
allowed
the dampness
of
the world
to
loosen
our
touches
and glances.
Like the
time
Noah
forgave the world,
and
simply
left
without
notice.
See,
what this poet
loves
about you,
is
the nuance
of
how
we miss each
other
like a wordsmith
misses
her syllables,
nouns,
and the subtle dance
with
your voice,
the texture of your skin,
and love hidden
in between
the noise
of the
streets.
You,
my incredible sage,
is
the only
thing
missing
right now.

M.C. Davis

Connection

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little
here
and there,
bit
by bit,
and
there exists
the
connection
short-circuited
in
the mix
of
the things
not
fixing themselves.
A
small peace,
filling
in
the gaps,
and letting
in
the
loose,
wireless,
and
often,
faulty connections
we
once had
during the yesteryear
days
before.
These
letters
offer
no support,
and
the vowels
and consonants
only
give
a
quiet
reprive
from the noise.
We
are only left
with
the distance
that
seemingly
feels indifferent
to
the situation.
This connection,
however
faint,
is vibrant
and stoic,
but we’re not
determined
enough
to fall
too deeply
in
between these
paragraphs.

M.C. Davis