With my eyes closed

With my tongue and fingertips

Peering in

I speak with my skin

 

I want a simple life with someone who can look me straight in the eyes and tell me the truth without flinching.

I feel you lightly

Feather whispers

Falling like a snow that could get heavy if we wanted to carry the weight

I lock your glances and lengthy pauses in my heart like it’s a little clasped purse

I don’t know if they’re a treasure or poison

Dialogues are meant to be imagined as conversations between *1 or more characters.

 

*1=self

*2+)=all the other selves

“You’re hands are cold.”

“I can feel your warm heart beating inside of you.”

“You’re so intentional.”

“I love how you smell. Like sweet soil and zucchini-bread.”

“My back hurts, baby.”

Oh, hello.

It’s nice to see you again.

1. I’m lost.

Life has me backed into one last, impossible, corner.

She stabs a finger at me while licking her lips.

2. The baby wants me to play.

I’m laying on the bed with an arrow in my chest.

3. I’m made of static.

My blood hisses and fizzes like a sweet, Cherry-Coke.

My heart will beat again later. I know.

 

 

A poem bloomed in my head when I met you. From the mud like a lotus.

You crushed it with your gray eyes and a field of poppies sprang into being at my feet.

Slowed my heart down enough for you to catch it.

You fractured me and a trillion fissures spiraled out from the epicenter.

Making me into a wild and unpredictable series of moving pieces that are always rumbling out warnings.

Sometimes they even shift and tremor.

 

 

 

 

 

A good man will unwind you in your sheets in daylight.

Look at all your fissures with wonder and squeeze you to his chest.

Leave love notes in a neat bed.

I’m afraid of light and sweetness.

I don’t want to let you in but I won’t let you go.

This.

Finally.

This is a helplessness I can’t stand against with fists.

I’m already falling to pieces.

Catch them.