A Flaw in Design
(a haiku) by Kelley Stephens
The Bite Down
by Kelley Stephens
There were things I couldn’t taste.
Back then they created swollen emotions.
Unfortunately taking precedence over my thoughts.
What I am afraid of now that I am calm,
is when I give you can only tell me that I take.
I live in the public housing section of your heart.
Low on faith I had to make the choice,
to let you taste my sound because,
during the operatic tragedy that was our life,
my tongue often wouldn’t stress the syllables of your name.
As if all the flavor inside my apologies,
were a foreign language to your arms.
As if they were enough to turn me into the one.
Now all I see are hollow points of eviction,
while hoping my hunger subsides,
in the ache of this new place;
I can’t say home.
By Kelley Stephens
I still keep the key to the universe close by, I think I found it randomly outside one morning and brought it inside. On Sunday morning I notice it while rushing out of the house. I think to myself you are probably still fast asleep so I won’t call.
The talk I hear all around me is so meaningless it makes me ache. You would use big words and use them in such short sentences. It’s the little things like this that hurt. The places where you used to smile. Sometimes I hum or whistle and turn around looking at nobody. Maybe this is all just a foolish infatuation after all.
Come over for breakfast sounds like come down to earth. Tonight maybe I should take your advice; unscrew my head so I can deflate. Honestly at the end of this day I will get inside of crumpled sheets and wish you were by my side.
They’re Roaming Always Eternal
By Kelley Stephens
There are nights when I worry I will end up like him
Tossing crumpled up paper in wastebaskets
Bored and worried; hoping but wondering
If doors will open shut; what to hack off next
Staying awake into hours unknown to sleep
Preforming on an empty stage behind drawn curtains
I worry that the pictures might become brittle rattle so hard
They come unhinged from these sturdy walls
Along with the rope that fails from trying too hard
Long winded emails and travels into the ether
Roaming sixth thousand square feet that’s floorless
The dying art of thought that goes anywhere but home
Fearing loss all of the time like a dog at a oak door
Loyalty for your sins, sugar pills and prescriptions
Fucked up one too many times to pray you make it today
For life to be so fluid you tear from every wave
But needing the salt to clean out the dirt
Circling hidden triangles finding Atlantis staring you down
I love her and she loves him, I love him he loved her
Getting lost but never asking, never telling, always and never
Certainty in I don’t know shouldn’t be an area code
neither should a 911; or the morgue; Emergency please
Hysterical I love my mom, but he loved her too comments
Someone else loves her now but not like this
I love you, and others may too
but I just hope that he knows I loved him too
I love my father,ashes to dust but right now
I am petrified of becoming my fathers daughter
Endless hope of suffering to be quieted eternal
I love you still, I love you still, forever, forever
Overcoming\ItBy Kelley Stephens
Being alone and feeling lonely are two different things and while I realize that; I think they are both doomed and diseased.
Alone is doomed to become lonely through the mindless repetition of doing things to make them less lonely. Sadly, making their cut off limbs harder to find over time and less to hold.
And lonely is diseased. A comfortable party built for one. Laying underneath a canopy of self-sufficient, self-loathing and some may even call it flat-out selfish if you have someone willing to love.
So telling me to be happy in my aloneness is like telling me to stay calm while everyone else around me eats cake. Sitting on top of rainbows smiling at their significant others while my head gets chopped off right at the neck.
However, this doomed alone and diseased lonely cant help but wait for it. What’s it you ask? I haven’t a clue.
Except I know I could recognize it in the sweat that I create coming through its skin. The smell of him. The sound of his voice will make me overindulge in subordinance. And I will be grateful when I see the hazy black fog fade into gray until ending in white. When his arms are borderless. When I test his tolerance. When I fall, crashing heavy. The emotion in being found and nestled in simple. In complete.
I might walk lighter out of my new romance but trust me; I will know his passion. By the way my feet will pound into the ground just to get to his sticky sweet mouth, his tongue, my name written behind his perfect teeth which will remind me everyday of my own infused skin.
Agreed, loving me sounds hard. I am not very solid. So fluid in the cadence of his rhythm I will melt. Droplet for thirsty and desperate droplet. Just please leave me be until then.
I made a promise so I intend to keep. Saying that, I hope you understand I have also made mistakes. There is no fantasy here. I am human and he is real. Nothing will stop me from tempting damnation, even brimstone to hold my lovers hand again. I will wait doomed and diseased if that is what it takes. I will wait patiently. For it. For him.