Catching Sparks

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Missed my chance to see

who you were

a stranger I met

one time in a quick breath

and nervous leg twitch.

You wanted to love me

right there and then

under day lights

and Montreal stars,

carefully, gradually

as fast as time ran

on an ancient clock

and as slow as your touch

on my straight legs

can handle in the middle of

destruction road.

You knew how I’d feel

way before I crossed my legs

and threw away my loneliness,

you knew how I’d stand up to you

after I walked away

in the middle of the night

with your pockets full

of desire.

You already have everything 

what made you think

I’d be proof

that heaven exists?

Just another girl

with happiness between my thighs 

all yours

but I hide in my closet

before I

lay on your hotel bed 

and gift you my


through poetry and sex.

Call hell and shout

our welcome

of pounding flesh

before sun rises

and first cups of coffee.

I told you to not

fall in love

with who you

think I may be.

I’m none of that 


I got you close enough

to convince you

of everything.


Light up

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Break me

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In the mood for some Anne

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Hey guys and gals, this is one of the poems I read over and over because every time I read it

it changes like this bloody Montreal weather forecast, like my moods. Enjoy the poem and try

not to analyze too much. Let it flow.

Love to you all and thanks for reading. In five days will see the ocean and be on vacay so I wish everyone a great rest of the summer and will be on and off/ inconsistent / but always here.


Chrissy x

Us by Anne Sexton

I was wrapped in black
fur and white fur and
you undid me and then
you placed me in gold light
and then you crowned me,
while snow fell outside
the door in diagonal darts.
While a ten-inch snow
came down like stars
in small calcium fragments,
we were in our own bodies
(that room that will bury us)
and you were in my body
(that room that will outlive us)
and at first I rubbed your 
feet dry with a towel
because I was your slave
and then you called me princess.

Oh then
I stood up in my gold skin
and I beat down the psalms
and I beat down the clothes
and you undid the bridle
and you undid the reins
and I undid the buttons,
the bones, the confusions,
the New England postcards,
the January ten o'clock night,
and we rose up like wheat,
acre after acre of gold,
and we harvested,
we harvested.

take me in

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you come at me

from all sides

the ones on the cusp

of transforming into my next

escapade. we drank with strangers

and talked about all that was broken

as if to find some truth under

the lies we sold, but nothing is

sacred. it seems that meeting

lovers at discreet places is a

thing of the past. let everyone see

what a joke facades are;

meet in the middle of Centropolis

and pretend you see no one.

what the fuck is wrong with

sliding under radars, going off

the grid? nothing for the ones

who read at three am instead

of sleep, nothing for the ones

who make love

instead of waking up.

dreaming is a thing of the past

like poems

that change with the weather

like poets

who think they are better

because academia dictates

my degree is substantial

to teach everything I don’t

want to. poetry is in

constant debate, and

yet you and I

can’t be friends.

but i’m so grateful

you took me in

and showed me

your sunset

and sunrise.

Fall apart

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What I hate the most

Originally posted on Christina Strigas:

I’m holding on

only to

fall apart

over and over

until all

my limits

are made

into poetry.

Until all my body parts

turn into your leaves

of grass.

This is my sanctuary.

How I love your roots

that pull my gravity

toward your earth.

All the steps

to your street

are silent.

You know how

to hurt me

with no dirt.

I sent you my love

in a sealed package

you ripped through me

instead of opening me

up gently.

Who cares where i live?

My middle-aged craze

I have never changed

I have always been in crisis.

i flushed my cigarettes

broke all the bottles

all I have

is this pen

and paper.

Most of the time

it’s all I need.

other times

it’s what

I hate the most.

View original

Watching Anna Karenina

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Originally posted on Christina Strigas:

When that empty breeze
brings upon memories
of how your kisses tasted so sweet
your arms around my neck
gently lifting me
the white love surrounding
us on the green grass
and how I bit your lip
in ecstasy
and teased you
until the fights turned
into mad sex
meeting lovers in corridors
behind screens
and how love stands alone
blocks cages and church icons
as anger is the new breed
of communication
while you look down my blouse
hard for me
wanting all of me
my insides filled with only you
if I could give you more of me
I would
but I am stuck
somewhere between who I was
and who I want to be
for I am on that unpredictable wave
forecast is fluctuating
my insides are tortured
with common folk
but your eyes
oh those fucking eyes
how they see through every piece
of me

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