Eve Rounds

sex makes me forget

that i have MS.
sex makes me forget
a lot of things. forgive a lot of things. want a lot
desire is distracting. it activates the segments of my brain only tainted by subversive thought.
my body feels functional as that desire leads to fulfillment.
a raw familiar process of give and take that operates as it should.
my mind feels functional as that desire leads to more desire. a regeneration process that doesn't require pills or follow ups.
compartmentalizing can be so fucking sexy.

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards


what did falling in love feel like to you actual falling a new winter sweater a blood flutter did you question its science or were you


sometimes the wind the waves muffle and drown my memories sometimes the wind the waves magnify and amplify the sound of your voice and clearing

the theatre

this is  a silent film flickering  catching  starting over emptiness surrounding such a blinding contrast ahead of us shared stories  captured images disconnected nonsensical we