I stepped deep into the sea wearing a summer dress and sat on the stone staircase dripping wet. Always, I grow the most fevered storms. I now had a mouth full of ocean and I missed my books. But I missed you beyond the horizon and right over the edge of time.
There was us
and then there was only me and morning aches of two am reckonings,
where I couldn’t force my eyes or silence your echos.
You were a gateway drug
leaving a labyrinth of goddamn
all over the inside of my skin.
I’d move with the dawn wondering about everything and tripping on veins and cords strung everywhere. My heart was always going on about you and it was beheld in my unhinged willow eyes.
There was us,
then there was me,
and then there was you and I.
The fluid blue stare once more into my longing, those little delicate fleshy syllables between us grafted poetic and infused passion times two. The depth of your lower register spun sacred as your words reproduced pin pricks underneath a numb surface,
“Your heart is savage
and your eyes never apologize
for the way they hold on to mine.
I couldn’t reconcile
being me living in a life that wasn’t yours.
Those pieces of you
that I had held in my teeth
were the only things that ever left me feeling whole.”
I wept without sadness but from holding my breath for too long. We belong in this iron cage of breath and bones, next to my mouth and these lungs that I call home. Put your thumb on my heart and press re-play.