we can go together

harbor my hollowed heart 

take my hand and keep it 

through the moments of our 

misfortune 

can our love carry

the cause?

privy to your pain–

i tread carefully 

wading in your sorrows

i will carry you to shore

for better or for worse 

and with every stitch

i will mend your aching soul 

hemming your heart 

until it is whole once more – 

would you do the same for me

or is that selfish to say?

for doubt is a powerful potion –  

heavy is the mind that thinks only of tomorrow 

weighted are the thoughts tied only to the storm 

yet we exist in the eye 

in tandem is this blessed union

let the winds bellow

let our reflections hold true

and seal our fate in solidarity

we can go together.

beneath every comforter you own,

we lie entangled in a fragile embrace,

yet only your silhouette emerges 

a ghost of the warmth i once knew.

i savor the dying embers of your heat,

tracing every delicate curve

with trembling fingertips,

as if each contour were etched from my own longing.

our eyes do not meet,

and our lips do not touch.

i call out your name

and silence screams back,

a playful echo of our unspoken grief.

to crave you

so completely, so painfully

in this fleeting moment

is my undoing.

to want you as you are

in this moment

is truly despicable on my part.

how can you provide

what you lack?

how can you ever offer

what remains so heartbreakingly absent?

as we lie here, stiff and unwilling,

i am reminded of the connection 

between beast and machine.

this is not the man i know.

sure you are still mine,

for a brief moment

we are strangers

and that excites me.

the day that i met you 

i shed my skin

and all that was beneath it 

taking a page from the cobra’s book

slithering away from certainty

forgoing comfort

i hoisted myself into your world 

before i got the chance to understand my own 

it was not enough to be with you

i wanted to live under your flesh 

to dangle in the back of your throat 

to stir in your veins

i was ready to die before i had even lived

content with being 

a blip in your timeline

a speck in your universe 

a mere lipstick stain on your pillow

i abandoned my reality

because i was so engrossed in yours 

fixated on a love not meant to least

hung up on temporary sensations

i lost myself 

to you

catch my eye 

hold my stare

flickers of flirt  

fold between our laughter

darling won’t you 

open up the honeysuckle gates

and entangle your limbs

with mine 

trace the crevice 

in the small of my back

wind up layered raven locks 

throbbing follicles twinge

at your every nudge

we pulse and pry

tug and drag

scrape and strain

until our lips are numb 

wading in the dampness 

our proof of passion

beads of crystalline liquid 

polka dot your figure 

flames engulf the flicker

swallowing my pride 

diminishing the dawn 

of a budding romance

kiss me again

once more with feeling 

kiss me again 

slow your rhythm

try for me 

please 

loosen your jaw

thaw your frozen feelings

our lips can pray as hands do

hold me close 

and we can pretend 

that we’re still in love

I can feel myself sinking deeper 

into your memory-foam breasts,  

swallowed whole

by polyester waves,

ripple by ripple.

You will chew me up 

and spit me out.

But I will come back time and time again

unscathed by your  

cold shoulder.

It’s only temporary,

as these things usually are.

Let me back into your good graces. 

I will prove 

that I am worthy 

of your affection.

Embrace me with your quilted appendages. 

Keep me in your womb.

Give me shelter

Give me security.

Give me love

or something like it.

Smother me. 

Make me crave the outside 

but do not set me free.

I do not belong out there 

with the soiled masses 

desperate 

for an unattainable closeness. 

They want what we have.

Do not shut me out, 

forcing me to inhale 

the pungent stench of sensibility.

It’s all death and taxes.

A wrinkled reality. 

Let me vacate in the void.

Let me stay.

In here where I am protected.

In here where I am wanted. 

In here where I am buried

but still very 

much alive.

If I could, I would

remove every inch of skin 

you’ve ever touched, 

peel off my epidermis layer,

strip by strip, 

and bathe myself in bleach.

Even then,

I would not be clean.

Perhaps I should, 

lay on burning coals 

until my flesh 

liquifies,

until I am 

nothing 

but a pile of molten sludge.

Or

I could wade

into The Nile 

with weights strapped 

to my ankles

and let the crocodiles

flay the meat off my bones.  

If I could, I would 

unhear every lie you’ve ever told,

pierce my eardrums 

with a P.F. Chang’s chopstick.

The deceit runs red.

I’ll make myself forget every memory 

that we made together

by slamming my head against the wall,

cracking my skull 

into a thousand blackouts.

I could just sniff carbon monoxide,

the silent killer,

urging my throat to swell

and my lungs to burst, 

expelling your stale saliva 

from my being. 

If that doesn’t work,

I’ll chug windex out of a martini glass.

Can’t be much worse than Grey Goose

and an olive. 

You’ll love this one.

Picture me hanging from the ceiling fan, 

twirling around and around.  

A maroon stained neck,

rubbing against a twisted rope,

just like one of those dainty ballerinas,

think Swan Lake.

Watch 

the feathers fall.

A saffron glow emerges in the distance, 

breathing comes to a slow, 

and I have erased you completely.

Press 

the rounds of your knees together. 

Get low 

to the ground.

Allow your breasts

to graze the floor.

Brush your lips against the carpet. 

Open your palms 

and repent. 

Drape yourself 

in thick, weighty fabrics.

Pray away 

the tumultuous act 

committed in vain. 

It can be undone. 

It can be 

undone.

Mary did it, so can you.

Go down

to the reservoir. 

Submerge your tainted flesh.

Then, watch closely as stolen kisses dribble

off your spine.

Wash away the crimson stains

and cry out for redemption.

Flutter 

your lashes. 

Elevate the apples of your cheeks and bite down.

Laugh (if necessary),

Touch (when appropriate), 

but do not give in to temptation.

Your time

would be better spent

drooling over salmon dishes 

and cooing at caviar, 

that you won’t swallow.

Allowing your eyes to wander 

when the bill arrives.

Make him pay. 

Let finance

be your first base

and coition be your last.

Afterall, a financial transaction 

is as good an indicator 

of love as any.

Why you want to heal in the first place?

Bask in your shame, girl.

Expose your every limb.

Put that pretty organ on display. 

Hear them whisper 

 Tight. Soft. Wet

My dear, you are nothing more 

than an adjective. 

Unless, of course, 

countless nights of combing 

through bed chambers 

have made you weary.

Or worse, 

your abdomen has begun to ache, 

pained by the parasite

that you host. 

If nothing else,

ingest the small pale pills.

One here.

One at home.

That should kill it, 

no more physical evidence of your sin  

and so

it is done.

You are healed.