Bruised Knees

I don't need spells

or amulets to

repel

the curses you placed upon me.

Soul so pure

that when you try to

contaminate me,

I make you clean.

I see your wounded child

in your illusion of mean.

So, fall,

my dear.

Bruise your knees.

Life's not meant to be

ended pristine.

I'd rather my life be

painted

than to be a

whitened

veneer.

I want to live a life of

weeping

and of

tears.

To leave

a little bit scathed.

I want to leave

just a bit

insane.

To make poetry out of

what used to be

pain.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Siren

Come with your walls

and I’ll hang up my art.

Come with your doors;

you can leave them ajar.

If you need distance

then I’ll honor your far.

If the shore is safe to you

then leave me in the mar.

If my fins frighten you,

send me letters in glass jars.

I’ll tame my waters,

I’ll look away,

I’ll dim my sun

to a more soothing gray.

Bring your dams

and your haunted yesterdays,

but all I ask is

that you consider

a stay.

That it was never me who left,

but you

who

pushed me away.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Clementine

Blowing the smoke

of the illusion that you’re mean,

even when your hurting heart

is hurting me.

You let the fear turn you to steel,

when your inherited pain

was always yours to feel.

Came to my dinner table

after digesting a meal.

If only you savored my flesh

instead of quitting

at the

peel.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Chocolate Cake

In fighting for nothing,

in mastering the discreet,

you’ve become a walking

defeat,

en route to your island

to contemplate and retreat,

while I’ve become cake batter

as the oven preheats,

relying on toothpicks

to announce my

readiness

to eat.

Never the full meal,

but a lick

of a

cheap,

sinful

treat.

I asked

then embodied

the form of receipt,

when the dialogue

of prayer

is a

two-way street.

You buried the truth,

but the floor had a heartbeat.

So I took the task

of drilling through

the concrete.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

 

Blasphemy

If all of my wars were seen,

I would have earned many badges.

Or maybe they’re pinned

to my skin

in the form of

bruises

and scratches.

Forest

preserves

prescribed

with

matches.

The wound is sour,

the awakening bulges,

like fallen fruit

the earth’s mouth

indulges.

Was only

smitten

by the forbidden.

Bit the bloody

pomegranate

until I was

guilt-ridden.

How could you call me a sinner

when my very nature

was

written?

Accountability is dead.

Rolling me like dough,

you kneaded me

until I spread.

Blaming me for my knots with,

let the dead bury the dead.

I don’t get your riddles.

I’m arguing with a wall

but it’s

my own voice

that

echoes.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Blue Shoulders

The sun is setting in

Harper’s Ferry.

The girl on the train

has become your girl

with blue shoulders,

poking through the sheets.

Muted TV,

lights

painted on skin.

Smelling my palm

as it cups my chin

to remember that bar

of soap

I rubbed across your back.

Thoughts float over

the blanket

you hold with both of

your hands.

The mystery was sexy

but now

we’re making

plans.

Soon you’ll see

that my fears end with

and.

When stretching

to expand,

I’m bound

by

rubber

bands.

How could I sleep when I

never land?

Each night

I become a pot of soil,

falling backwards

and off

a

windowsill.

Chest open,

back arched

like

echinacea’s

pistil.

You came for the garden

but I’ll choke you

with weeds.

Assumed it was fertile

but the drought

swallows

your seeds.

I never needed to

speak with words;

you hear my

misery

in my

mistuned

chords.

Guitars orgasm

at the rub of

my fingers.

Nails

brittle.

Desire is a

tea kettle,

shivering with sweats,

asking before it loads,

will I explode?

We speak truth now

when before

we spoke in code.

It’s me you’re talking to;

even ignorance

can forbode

when it believes

it can

handle.

I was your girl with

blue shoulders

but then you

changed

the channel.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Flare Up

I have become a soaked rag

in need of twisting dry.

I’m daily tormented

by

the addictive question of

why.

I keep to myself

inside

locked doors,

speaking only to

walls and

doctors.

Yes, I know my panic

makes me a blinker.

No, I’m not a coffee drinker,

just an

over-

thinker.

I spent thousands of dollars

on my biggest regret.

Tomorrow refreshes

but muscle never

forgets.

What doesn't kill you

makes you an artist.

And frequenting funerals

makes you a

florist.

I mourned you

until I became

bored of you.

You think you’re bold as black

but you’re a

pale

photograph.

Treated me like a

knockoff

styrofoam plate,

fork holes

like bullet holes

from your slice of

chocolate

cake.

My no was a whisper

when it should have been a roar.

The aftermath is

farmácia receipts

and gauze

on the

bathroom floor.

Grabbed by the neck

and yanked by the dress,

forced to open my mouth

“lest we make a mess.”

You caused my tearing

yet blamed me

for my fury.

You raped me

yet called me

violent

for kicking

and screaming.

And now you’re chauffeuring me

to my healing,

scoffing at my ouches

because your weapon

is free of

feeling.

Specks of

cayenne linger

on my dining table.

Red.

Like your pale,

jaundice eyes

and entitled erection.

80’s hair,

blue eyes,

like a Good Guy

with sinister intentions.

I repeated no

in far too many languages.

It’s getting old,

blaming you,

for being

pushed

past

my edges.

I can take

myself

to the doctor,

arriving through

emergency doors

with

blood-soaked

clothes.

And daggers

like peacock feathers.

I wear them like

fashion.

Boils and bruises

from never taking caution.

I told spells in my misery

and in turn Life cursed me.

I asked it for a break,

and so it did:

It broke me.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Ajar

If you just

twisted the knob,

you’d see it was

unlocked.

Awaiting your

footsteps

and then

your knock,

the way

my bum waits

for the

surprising

wake-up call

of your alarm

cock.

I said it.

You were dead before meeting me.

I meant it.

And I was a nomad before

that train ride home.

All my sexy travel stories

were precursors

and forewords

and interludes

and simulations

and openers

and knock-offs

and thrifts

and sterling silvers

and covers

of you.

For that face,

I'd say your rib

created me.

I would gladly accept

the patriarchy.

I'd let you rule me.

There's still flesh on the bone

I'd like to eat.

Speak.

Quit playing dead.

You always reappear

the moment

you enter my

head.

Is it telepathy

or is it

my own

witchery?

Twirling my finger

and continuing

history,

pulling some Matilda abilities,

cracking tea cups,

seeing prophecies

inside Turkish coffee cups.

I let go of the past

to make space

for you,

but you held onto it

and left no room,

as if scooting me off

a bed

where you

fucked me.

In trying to catch up to you,

you've aged me.

Outrun me.

In fathoming the you

back then,

you’re now

expiring.

My hair collects grays

and yours

you’re now

dyeing.

I’m wishing over candles

and broken bones,

knocking on wood

that weeps with

resin.

Jinxed

by my own

confession.

You’re not supposed to

reveal

your wishes.

Tell the truth

then the lie

diminishes.

You’re warded off

as if

scared

of crucifixes.

How young I feel

now.

A walking kid

with splinters in her toes—

is that how

you see me now?

Rug-burned knees

and scabby elbows?

This spark was

dormant

like herpes;

unrecognizable

and then painful

all at once.

I’m flared up

with mosquito bites.

I love you

and I hate you.

I want you

and I rebuke you.

You’re an icicle

that never bends,

out of fear of

snapping

like asparagus

attempting a

forward

fold.

Niceties

are cruelties

when we claim

truth is told.

I’ve chewed for so long,

I no longer want

to swallow.

Starving myself

until my stomach

becomes

hollow.

But you chew on

yesterday’s

swallowed food

instead of stepping into

tomorrow.

These secrets have made you

obviously

sick.

Your thoughts of me

buzzing

in my ears

and yet we call it

tinnitus.

Are you covered

now

in cobwebs of

haunted?

That the one you

hired

fired

you?

That your fear

of rejection

rejected you?

I am the spider

that lingers on

that dust,

the dried yoke

in broken eggs

of lust.

I’m scathed by

what you made me do.

Arms around their waist

to forget

the thought

of

you.

I'd hop off

their bikes

and instead

ride with

you.

I’d clear

all the bases

I crossed

to forget

your snowy

traces.

Touching base

was just a false promise.

Riding backwards on a train,

I faced forward

towards your town,

questioning if my past

would become

my future now.

I forgot

to forget you.

I forgot that it hardens,

this quickening concrete.

You could care less

yet I give out

free erections

on the street.

I perceived saturation

in your diluted colors

of modesty.

Your ambiguity

made me

fill in the blanks,

so how could you blame me

when you

never

explained.

These endings are mornings,

the way we wiggle our

fingers and toes

after sleep.

Shattering our dreams,

brushing them off like crumbs,

and awakening

to limbs that have

gone

completely

numb.

When you run out of ice,

do you use

your own

heart?

Dipping my finger

in your

bitter

coffee cup—

did I go too far?

Was your heart

light years away?

But your

far

was my

close.

Did you like my nose?

I saw you stare

as I looked at the houses.

Was my presence

an uninvited

phoenix

[into your safe life]

that pounces?

My questions

leave me with

whiteness

so that I may color

this illusion with

answers.

I made

a whole

out of a collection

of bits.

I gave birth

then resurrected,

and now the world is demanding

splits.

Thoughts wash and dry

in your mind.

Sitting for days,

wrinkling

on the

clothing

line.

You overthink your response,

tearing out the

pages and

leaving me with

the spine.

Yet your

silence

has made you

spineless.

The most quiet thing

has made my pain

so loud.

Cutting me

in the name of love

doesn’t make it

halal,

and yet what I thought was weight

was none other than

a turbulent,

ephemeral

cloud.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Condolences

Your apparition,

like a ten-year reunion

(or was it an anniversary?).

A leap

like the 29th of February.

It was a rarity.

But was it also a charity?

Your absence of clarity

was presently clear.

It was too green

for me to even

contemplate a tear.

Was I a bore

when you wanted

to explore?

Did you refuse

to pursue

because you wanted to

peruse?

Didn't want to spoil your muse,

so you left me unused?

With 'Not so sure I do.

But what say you?'

When I surely do,

but you

would rather

bid me

adieu.

Haunted by the metronome

of

Did you

or

didn't you?

I asked the cards for a clue

instead of asking you.

Juvenile

and jejune

to confess

I wanted to be stained

by you,

with bruises signed

by you,

mark of the beast tattooed

of you,

muscle memory rehearsed

of you,

my heart cursed

by you

so no one after

could

compare

to you.

You've got me speaking like a Christian.

I would have bowed in pews. I would have consecrated us two.

I learned many languages

but I wanted to learn you.

I traveled dimensions,

but I wanted to traverse you.

I can't toss you

behind my shoulder

like the strands of my hair.

I can't pretend it was green

when a fruiting body was there.

Prophecies

and inklings,

yet

it’s all in

my mind?

I was

red and ripe

but you

were colorblind.

Buried in the brown

before ever seeing the light.

I put you on the calendar before

sending an invite,

to unveil the veiled decade,

one

article

of

clothing

at a time.

May it all rest in peace:

the life we departed.

The potentials aborted

before even started.

The reality

where you choose me

and not lose me.

Where you'd get me,

and not let me

walk away.

Was it even a departure

when you never invited

me to stay?

Miscarried.

All the potentials. All the serenades. All the kisses in between massages.

Where you'd step out of your shields and masks

and defensive camouflages.

Where you'd keep going forward without your doubts,

and only pull back

when pulling out.

You banned the books

I would have signed

with love notes on the page.

Adoring me only in the hostage

of this cage,

when there were

green lights,

highways,

stairwells

to the next

stage.

So was it all the fault of my age?

Did I repulse you

like sage;

purifying your soul

at the expense

of a foul

wage?

Are you outraged

by your own abortion?

It was you who favored it;

I just seconded the motion.

There's nothing left to mourn

because

'Nothing was even born.'

Oh, enough

with the scorn,

when you repeatedly

began it

then unexpectedly

adjourned.

Delivering smoke signals

then mixed signals;

a bluff

is all you dealt.

I'm abused

by the

withheld.

The withdrawals.

The repelled.

Did he

or

didn’t he?

I never could tell.

Expel me

from wearing white;

I stain everything I step into.

'I meant to.'

'I intended to.'

But never

ever

did you.

Superstitions

and

intuitions.

Were all of

my wishes

premonitions?

I had my predictions,

I felt my convictions,

all of which

annihilated

under your

jurisdiction.

When I prophesied

with visions

the alchemy of

one

decision.

But you chose

partiality

over

direct,

keen

precision.

Retracted,

redacted,

but watch,

this’ll all be

reenacted.

But what was the point of it—

the glances,

the chances,

annually

anointed?

My questions

spit

and land

on a

dense wall

of Velcro.

You’ve become

a third party,

anonymity,

holding truth

as if it were

escrowed.

Show me you

and I’ll show you

me.

I know I didn’t earn

your intimacy,

but did I really deserve

a proxy?

You just

held

open

the door

for me,

as if uttering

under your breath,

finally.

How strange

that the longer I know you,

the more a stranger

you become

to me.

When others gave effort

so effortlessly.

Hiding flowers inside their sleeves

to surprise me.

But they were warm as lips,

and wilted.

In refusing their love,

I've lived life guilted.

Fully addicted

to the desire you'd inflicted:

when I looked away

then caught your head,

tilted.

I forced you,

but the one who was raped

was me.

What I seek

is seeking me,

but only as a

reverie.

I'm still a baby

tied to the umbilical cord.

My mind stores you

like a garage filled with hoards.

I can’t starve

what's insatiable.

I've died many deaths,

but with this

I'm incapable.

The past reappears like

a pair of

old shoes.

Torn,

warm,

from the habit of being worn.

Your goodbye,

a no reply,

leaving the air

forlorn,

for even cold water,

when familiar,

becomes

lukewarm.

You’ve got me running

on speeding treadmills;

escaping you

on ground

that’s stubbornly

still.

Burn you,

bleach you,

anything to

kill

the unrequited thrill,

the drag of ‘until,’

and the lag

of

waiting

and waving

for the

delayed bill.

Still,

how magical it was to wonder

and never discover.

To flirt with the melancholy

of being your lost lover.

Immortalizing our eggs

before ever becoming a mother.

But no longer did I want the

masturbation of secrets

when there was a whole hard world

to uncover.

Yet would our early erasure

be yet

another?

Like an erratum of regret

you slate

for the next day?

Would you push me away

like

an airport delay

or a perpetual

foreplay?

Shopping me like an aisle,

abandoning your cart.

Postponing our start.

'What's up with this desk that's keeping us apart?'

When you know damn well it was

the bruises

around your heart.

Covered in casts.

Reciting your doubts

like spells cast.

Beating with mantras

of

'nothing lasts'

and

'not so fast.'

Then, when?

Would we forever be a

draft?

Clinging tightly to your past,

you let your future pass.

Snoozing it for years

as if the other woman

were your

fears.

In fighting for nothing,

in mastering the discreet,

you’ve become a walking

defeat,

en route to your island

to contemplate and retreat,

while I’ve become cake batter

as the oven preheats,

relying on toothpicks

to announce my

readiness

to eat.

Never the full meal,

but a lick

of a

cheap,

sinful

treat.

I asked

then embodied

the form of receipt,

when the dialogue

of prayer

is a

two-way street.

You buried the truth,

but the floor had a heartbeat.

So I took the task

of drilling through

the concrete.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

 

Nausea

all of the detours,
and the airplanes,
and the underwater mumbles,
getting lost in Chicago
where street names turn to
sketchy numbers.
dark rain,
and the drunk running,
fake laughing at the
unfunny,
the jammed umbrellas,
the wet feet,
still a stranger to strangers
I have yet to meet.
puking in malokas,
twirling in Sacromonte caves,
spinning and spinning
in drunk men’s arms
in Spain,
where they search for American girls
while they fight,
flight,
and fawn,
to devour and escort
out to tired
streets
at dawn.
from cloud
to ground
the past descending,
as if it were the second coming.
the spinning and spinning,
the flying over seas,
the speeding ferry,
the naivety.
the nausea,
the honesty,
the heart on my sleeve,
the heads tilted over stained toilet seats.
And now I sink
into exhales
in the foams of a bath,
with scrapes—
no longer gasping
gapes—
in the pruned aftermath.
the past buzzes like a
concert recently departed,
of potentials aborted
before even started.
naked in warm water,
nose plugged
as I fall,
the sound of speakers
now muffled
behind the
wall

© Stephanie Khio 2024.

Eve

My tongue is a fist.

It reveals truth

you all lick around,

like teasing the clitoris.

Words are my free will:

to manipulate like clay

all that's ever

manipulated me.

I’ve died a thousand times

yet returned more alive.

I plan no journey

yet always arrive.

Hitting rock bottom

to

fertilize

the soil.

Food on the table

without even a toil.

As real as the Hawaiian waves:

I can either float you or kill you.

My eyes see through the fog—

tongue fades mirages.

Too powerful to possess,

even the devil

camouflages.

On the verge of being a nun,

I reclaimed myself as witch.

Was shamed into poverty

until I learned that God is rich.

My humanity became the topic

of Confession.

I plucked flowers

without permission.

I held men

with leadership

instead of

submission.

I went I bed with prayers unsaid,

and threw away the cotton

on which I weekly bled.

As a child

I squashed a bug

so I could paint

the sidewalk

red.

Sainthood required a life of dread,

so I spit out the apple

and opted for Sunday bread.

Walked with

a posture of apologies,

reciting eulogies

over my dreams and reveries.

I woke up

when I learned that

I could never win.

That when fear is ingrained,

even freedom

tastes like sin.

© Stephanie Khio 2024.

Granada Keeps Our Secrets

If your heart could speak,

it would speak the language

of the stars.

It would fizzle like bubbles

in a glass of champagne.

It would set like a saturated,

bruised sun.

It would cut up fruit

and plate them on dirty dishes,

washed in a

frenzy,

because the mouth is

for the tasting,

not the veneers.

If your heart were an artist,

it would paint the golden hour.

It would draw strokes of

Trastevere orange

and sunburnt shoulders,

of eyes squinting

from too much zest.

Still so young

the older

it

gets.

If your heart could sing,

it would sigh,

and not ponder for centuries

the futile,

trivial

question

of

why?

It would harmonize

orgasms and agonies.

Make the marvelous

blasphemy.

Find light in the tragedy.

If your heart could

love me forever,

it would turn my

bud of green

into

an engorged red.

It would rattle me until my

moans and cries

turned to lyrics instead.

It would shine a light

onto all of my dark places,

fucking me into healing,

until a new me,

stained by you,

became reborn.

© Stephanie Khio 2024

Yang

I’m going to break this plank.

My patience is collapsing.

Since I closed the door

on you and me,

I send messages

through

telepathy.

Are your ears now

buzzing?

My messages travel

on wires

where shoelaces

hang.

And in my dreams

I call you

Yang.

I finish unfinished stories

in the theater of

my brain.

Of when you lingered at that bar.

Or when you said you wouldn’t come,

but you came

so far.

When you stole my black pen

and warmed it with your hand.

When a hand

opened

closing

doors

when you could have

taken the stairs.

The peripheral stares.

When I turned around

to ask you a question

and your eyes looked up

from looking

down

there.

When you said nothing

and yet

I heard it all.

When I knew

it was your steps coming

from down the hall,

while I made myself

some tea,

and you whispered over to me,

you makin’ some tea?

I knew it because

you never made it

known.

I could always tell

because it never was

shown.

You promised nothing

so your presence would count

for something.

Oh, that enchanting ode

of speaking in code.

Your defense mode

revealed

what you were

defending.

Never bending,

I knew you wanted to bend.

Never lending,

I knew you’d someday extend,

offering me a balm,

a remedy,

that your

I’m sorry

would mend,

and then

after a decade,

you’d no longer pretend.

Yet I caught your

secondhand

of pretends,

with a secret heart

that upends

like broken pomegranates

in the

carmens

of Spain.

Now I’m the one

who’s stained.

Every noise

annoys me.

The never-knowing

is joy to me.

I know I don’t know

your history

or the details of

your mystery

but I crave your chemistry.

Distance is a mirage,

but it sees more clearly

than proximity.

How could I discard you

when your skin is

my kin?

When,

in my neurotic,

delusional,

shamanic

dreams,

you refer to me as

Yin?

© Stephanie Khio 2024.