I cried so hard I thought I’d die
for just a taste of something sweet
promised in his eyes.
The ache for what I hadn’t had
filled close to bursting
such pressure in my skin
leaked out in yearning
from beneath lashes
to end in salt upon my lips.
I can taste your strange dynamic on my tongue.
Bitter,
and it sours my stomach.
I don’t know what the flavor is between the two of you while I’m away,
but I want it out of my mouth.
Spit.
Mix your poison far away from me.
The antidote is in my eyes and hands and lips,
and there is not one reason I should be sick for you.
I am free.
I’m sure you had a logical reason
for quietly leaving me behind,
a justifiable synopsis
that made drifting away effortless.
I was confused and hurt,
like a wild animal almost tame
but not quite.
You were my balloon outside the carnival gate,
all those years ago.
So,
what if I breathe in
then out
and drop the string I held too long for you?
There is pleasure in that,
in being weightless for a while.
Dearest,
We live in different worlds,
you in a brain
and I in a heart.
So,
this is how I say
Goodbye.
“It was for the best.”
I told myself
when I doubted again what I had done
to protect my heart.
I have become a master stone mason.
There must be pride in that.
Right?
“It was for the best.”
I know it wasn’t.
Isn’t. – Won’t ever be,
but where do I find the chisel
strong enough
to ruin it all?
Offer my ears riches,
they’ve been blind in darkness too long.
Deliver more to me than dry, bare bones.
Utter something raw and true.
Make it sting.
Say something real.
Speak something worthy.
Leave me certain of your intentions.
I am too strong to pine for definitives a moment longer
But
Make words that are more than empty shells of what could be,
and I will risk my soul to bathe in the light with you.
Write something painfully sexy on my body
with your tongue.
I adore that part of you
which models such stunning sounds
from heavily blank air.
Mold a piece of my heart
into something of use to you
with hands that leave me no language of my own
except a vocabulary belonging to dark and carnal things –
the kind of beast I want to be
when I’m finally free.
I am so strange that surely it must appall you,
yet, I have these blueberry stained lips,
and I want you to taste them anyway,
even if they aren’t sweet enough for you.
The ways that you make me weak are unfamiliar,
and I am angry for allowing them,
as though I have a choice in the matter.
Besides, I like it.
I try to burn you out of me with molten sweat and tears
until you slide from underneath my skin,
but the release is temporary,
and we both know you belong there.
Steer me, Rudder, I’ll never know.
Aim my body discreetly, and I barely hear the, “GO.”
Sneaky little sovereign, I didn’t say I’d worship you.
Sneaky little sovereign, I never said I’d worship you.
No one else would drown me so secretly.
No one else even knew.
I felt the water clear my breast, brush against and soak the rest,
Cowardly little sovereign, I know it’s you.
I know it’s you.
I discovered the device of your despair,
and I’ll pierce you with it here, and here, and there.
Silly little sovereign, I am not immune to hate.
Silly little sovereign, you don’t have what it takes to satiate
me.
I’ll build a wall behind my ears
and darken my eyes to your face.
It will be as if you never tasted me
and I never squandered myself on you.
I’m making something new of me
and leaving out the parts of you
the thoughts of you
the memories of your hands
your lips
teeth
tongue.
I’ll forget your words
and sound
and smell,
the things that tied me down
and kept me still
so that I held my soul in stasis
for you.
There is only me now,
made of new things, strong things, divine things
that you haven’t touched
and never will.
Maybe I should be more gentle,
softer of speech
smaller in body
pleasing to others’ ear and eye.
Maybe I should be less weird,
feel more like everyone else
think shallow thoughts
with no risk involved.
Maybe it doesn’t matter
what feelings I feel
or words I puke
because there’s never enough of me
for you
or them
or him.
I’m wet and transparent
and it’s of no consequence when I tear
and flap uselessly to the ground.
Maine Moon 