Grieving You Again

 Spitefully repressing sad boy tendencies of a heartbreak

Where'd you go?

Another Love, long lasting after I began to Fall Into You and your poetic currents,

waving me in.

Reluctantly, I followed, allowing myself to get whiplash with 

your Lightspeed changes in vocal fluctuations 

and confidential instrumentals during the Evening in Summer.

"You fucking got to be Kidding Me"

We were just about to Get Down with our backs Against the Bottom of the Bottle.

Fullest throttle, throwin' melodic Shreds, mixed into our own Scar Gardens.

Ima tell you, both my feet are Planted and hope that the fact that you Won't Answer, isn't Irreversible.

~Tina Meeks

On a Thoughtful Strand of Floss

 

I feel as though I am a delicate canvas that is easy to puncture.

I am nothing short of ambivalence and painted layers of conjuncture.

My passions try to trace themselves over on the paper before me,

yet the ink just bleeds

and it's up to my blurring vision to focus and rely on the competency of me.

With hiccup cries being held back behind the pillows of my bed at night 

and the light 

of a Himalayan salt lamp to illuminate me in the darkest moments that I dread to possess.

Within every word pressed

between these pages,
and micro confessions of the darkest sensations

and tendencies that have themselves standing up against me.

The only form of defense that is grappling, are the moments when I face it head on and

tolerate the discomfort of my demons until we are comfortable as friends and I can redeem.

And maybe we're all fearful of the same things

and have a hard time putting them into words that are lucid and self-reflective perfectly

enough to be unique to the self and mitigate through.

~Tina Meeks

After a Brief Break

 

My absence has been abundantly away

from the pen and pad.

The last real me time, when was that?

Lost moments and the time away

was like a dream I've never had

and glad it's over.

It's time to dip back in with freshly washed fingers

-and my hands are clean.

There is much that I have yet to whisper

to the book of patience and divine opportunity.

I'm here for the stories and hear 

the cracking tiles from other sides

of the pages that have yet to fully turn.

Glance them, I do, prematurely.

My eagerness approaches with hopes

to intertwine immediately in case

of trouble rising like steam.

Yet here we are in this moment

of empty lines disappearing before my eyes

with very little shared.

Sorry, but this collection is mine.

So, try as you may to see through me

but my transparency remains

translucent for now

until I no longer feel like opaque

chipped away paint,

forging keeping my feces contained

in a dainty box

in a cool and dry place.

~Tina Meeks

Today

 

I've been actively avoiding you and

I'm sorry about that.

Maybe my hand can't keep up with my brain

or the other way around.

I've been feeling tired

and seeking adventure at the same time.

My pocket is shrinking.

I'm sinking

in my seat.

-Feet, planted

leering defeat.

Mental upkeep, 

overdue.

Who am I kidding?

Thought streams are seething

and soon to take flight,

fleeting by.

My shadow whispers to keep me on a swivel 

and the bags under my eyes accompany 

the darkness rolling in.

~Tina Meeks

Hover Near

I've been reflecting and marinating.

Whisper tones spoken to myself while eyes glisten.

Say nothing, because I'm never not listening.

Picture those broken before,

acknowledge,  

pay homage

with feet forward and every good intention.

Fellow poets,

I scribble trauma and drama

with pain and erase

outlines for few to follow

Don't tag along unless you wallow.

Tryna face my prose

while staring holes in my feet.

Attempting to keep what I've learned on lock.

I'm far from perfect with this dulled edge.

I'm quite reserved and maintain my morals at night

when I go to bed.

Just being real.

I'm not a liar, and fuck it,

by the minute, I'm shyer 

and tuck my tail in to preserve what the proof is.

I can't win for losing

'cuz by the time this hits the books,

you'll have to squint to see where the black and blue is.

In a slow cooker, faithfully stewin'

shenanigans and backwards pedaling.

Breaking free from old habits that trouble me.

As far as I'm concerned,

I'm just another form of self menacing and meddling,

and I've never touched down,

but ready to shake it up with more belt notches

 and break some ground.

~Tina Meeks

The Aftermath & Processing

Tingling on fingertips and sweaty palms.

My hands waiver beside me. 

Afraid to blink,

I know nothing else.

Walking through an unfamiliar strip of woods 

on the side of some road.

Maybe we're on the brink of being something else.

In the dirt is our shadows, yet I can't see myself.

Only spiderweb entanglement of what no one

around sees

- it's funny.

Standing there feeling the external protection 

of my brothers arms wrapped around me,

and scared to move my body away from any interior enemy

grasping at my nerves.

~ Tina Meeks

My Mind Wanders When We Aren't Speaking

 

There's no reason for us not to be

talking right now.

We're both protecting our pride that cannot sunburn.

This is the extent that I know about you.

And me... I don't like

to have my vulnerability exposed where a hole can be burned

into me from eye contact intensity.

The other day, while laying on the floor,

I wished you were there

pressed up against my back.

Burrowing your soul safely there

into the comfort of us.

Our caresses used to be 

tingly, heart-racing, attention grabbing, and sexy.

Now, where do we go with it?

Do you want me to lead you to the bed slowly,

while marinating in the moments guiding us

until my feet touch the bedframe?

We then tumble down like dancers and swirl

into closed eyelids and everything behind them?

Those moments, I could savor for forever

and capture as essential oils

for future reference to bathe in the build up.

I want to melt in your hands that are always warm

and have you

say and show me that you want

even a part of me that is as tucked away

as the space between my fingernails.

~Tina Meeks