i am not the kind of sick
that leaves the body flushed
at 104 degrees
in the middle of the winter.

                                                               ­                  i am not the kind of sick
                                                            ­                         that causes every breath
                                                          ­          to force
                                                           ­         its way

                                                               ­    back up

                                                             yo­ur throat
                                                          ­             while dragging razor blades
along the inside of your neck.

                       i am not even the kind of sick
                       that comes with a vaccination
                                  or an antibiotic
                            that will chase it away.
no.
                                                                ­                          i am the kind of sick
that leaves you locked in
the bathroom during class
because you can't seem to stop the
             flow of tears
                       running
                               down
                                     your face.

i am the kind of sick
that leaves your hands
sweating
and your voice
shaking
when it's your turn to order dinner
at the diner you've been to
a thousand times.
                                            
                                             i am the kind of sick
                                         that leaves you feeling

l o n e l y
                                              in a crowded room
                                           filled with the people you've
                                           known your whole life.

i am the kind of sick                                                                  ­                                that nobody sees
                                        because it's all in my head
                                      and cannot be cured.

Maybe the way the curve of your spine fits into me is an indication
of how the earth meets the sea.
Frothing, frigid and free

Maybe the way our lips convene is an illustration
of a star being born
Colliding, rising, expanding
With every breath we whisper to each other
the wind caresses the mountains in such delicate manners

Maybe the way our eyes meet
searching for a long lost landmark
{Home at last,
or at least until tomorrow}
reveal the discovery of deeper mysteries
Cold, comforting, coalescent

Maybe the simplest brush of skin
brings earthquakes to our veins
Seeped with unspoken words
warmth and peril rolled in one

Maybe, just maybe, the first ****** between two lovers
is the modern tsunami,
a flood of pleasure, teeming with emotions and laughter

The rain that lulls us to sleep
is the same as the water that cascades down cracks and cliffs
Racing to meet her soulmate,
Salt water
Fresh water
Two hearts beat in solidarity
Melting one into the other
Tongue on tongue
Fingertip to fingertip

Maybe the way we started is the way we end,
with nothing but empty space and deafening silence.