don't touch me i'm afraid i'll break
your hands are too rough they only know anger,
but I've only known love.

don't touch me i'm afraid i feel all wrong
not smooth enough, not perfect,
not perfect at all.

don't touch me i'm afraid i don't love you.
dad said never give up pieces so vital,
pieces you'll never forget losing.

don't touch me i'm afraid you'll leave after this.

don't touch me.
don't touch me.
don't touch me.
i'm not ready for this.

Please fall asleep so I can take pictures of you and hang them in my room.

You’re laying in between my legs, your back against my chest. I’m afraid you can feel my heart trying to escape my ribcage. Your fingers are interlaced through mine and I feel like I might throw up because they’re sweaty and I’m terrified you’ll be grossed out and let go. We’ve been in this position for hours watching movies and playing video games I want to freeze this moment in time.

So when I wake up I’ll feel like yeah everything’s alright.

You say you have to go and I swallow the bile in my throat. This is love in the worst way. You pull yourself away from me and gather your things. I want to grab your hand and pull you back down to me. Hide in this bed, under these covers and never come out.

You are still here, you are still happy, you are still smiling and laughing. You are still the only thing and everything I need in my life.

You say that I won’t give you space. I suffocate you with my hugs and the way I hold your hands and the way I always call and the way I yell. You say maybe we’re not a right fit and that you’re sorry.

And it goes in in out through the mouth breathing exercises I will never figure out til I am running in circles

You only ever call now to tell me to stop driving by your house. You said we ended weeks ago. That this space was necessary. But how could being away from the person you need more than you need air be necessary ?


or walking in circles, or crawling in circles, or laying on the ground

I’m laying in your backyard looking up at the same sky we would draw figures in with our fingers. Your father comes out and yells, he was never fond of me.

And I can hear your dog whistle from my bedroom*

I’m icing the bruise on my face. You’re on the speakerphone apologizing for your dad. You say I can't come by anymore. The only sound between us is the static of the phone and the sound of your dog whistling.

At first, it just seemed like normal.

The painful, yet blissful

constricting, yet rising

shrinking, yet swelling

tightening in my throat, in my chest.

That same ball of unspoken words and fumbled flirts that appears there whenever I think of you.

And I was looking at you

(you,

you,

you)

when the feeling came.

The raw, squeezing bitterness, tying my throat into knots - like usual, yet more. It was like I couldn’t breathe - beyond, of course, how you always take my breath away.

And then it happened. A single, solitary blossom escaped, expelled from my chest in a cough.

And then the tightness swelled again, squeezing my throat once more until another cough, another flower - blue with silver-streaked petals - came;

and another,

and another.

My hands were a fairy’s bouquet, a florist’s wildest dream.

The light began to fade in me as the flowers ceased to come;
I couldn’t breathe, air stuck half-way, as they clumped one by one.

My lungs were filled with beauty;
I fell, unnoticed, to the ground.
I was closer to you than I could ever hope to deserve;

Flowers spilling out, I closed my eyes and heart and throat, my conscience sound.