I don't know why I even bother.

I have no idea what I want.

I didn't quite say all that I wanted to.

I'm not afraid of you and I like that I don't have to be. Drunken advances are discouraged but sober ones... well, I didn't say anything about those.

Clearly I need to go to bed before my fingers get me into trouble. Have I ever mentioned that I don't like sleeping alone? This could be so easy if you let it.

Elevator Love Song

I speak fluent Chinese fingertrap dirty talk,
and not just with the bottom-feeders, the trough-eaters.

I am the jam to your jelly, loverboy,
and I write you bullshit love-letters on restaurant menus and bathroom stalls.

I hear the change in your pants pocket, can nickel and dime your libido
as skillfully as any back-alley Aphrodite – I'm your 'x marks the spot', baby.

My brilliance as a schoolgirl rebel debutante
would stun you.

I ride the motion of the ocean the way we ought to,
i.e. on my own. A ménage a moi, really, but I don't mind.

I can't complain:
I've been able to trace your hidden wallet, even when you stash it in the damn freezer.

It's gratifying that I can always
wake up before you, slide out from your side of the bed, down the fire escape.

Soon, an early morning liquor binge, white sun breaks out,
I roll over on my ego. I am atomic, so radiant that I melt your eyelashes.

I'm a siren humming filthy lullabies into your ear. An enigma of my age -
but I don't have to be.

A few years ago
I saw you, leaning against my apartment building, swaying like a broken ladder.

And the night before last you pinned me to the wall, plucked orchids from under my skirt,
my thighs buzzing, neon lights; your callused hands, rough as the sidewalk we stood on.

-Melissa Culbertson

Today I decide who's deserving of what.

backstabber

Sometimes the only thing to do is confess. Oh, what a mess we've made. Impaired judgments on both of our parts. Drunk on different kinds of chemicals. I never meant to hurt anyone. I'm still new to this game and I haven't figured out all the rules yet.

But still-

We got off to a bad start. Let's try again.

We'll both take it easy.

Goodbye, you. You were a bigger part of my life than I like to let on, but it never wrecked me when you left. We were a portrait of two people who couldn't have been more wrong for each other. I know that I don't get a second chance for first times, but I still have the most important gift to give. I hope that you find what you're looking for before you hurt yourself or someone else. All I see when I look at you is a lonely little boy.


I don't know where to start. This teaser of mid-spring weather has me feeling contemplative. This city is most beautiful at night after it rains- when it's humid and shining like glass. Today feels like 'grapevine fires' and I wish that I could read your mind. Or figure out what's going on inside my own, for a start.