When I needed a google search to tell me if I was still a ******.

It took a game of dare or double dare to teach me I don’t know repeated sounds an awful lot like yes
and ******* can drop mountains on boundaries not yet built –
serrated edges on once innocent skin

I let you carve me.

Nine years later and I’m still trying to find air in the ocean where it all happened.
I took lessons, but I never learned how to swim.

I remember thinking you must’ve liked me, that was the reason
and returning the favor would’ve made it okay. I found you in my freshmen year yearbook.

But I was wearing a bikini shaped like ignorance and a smile lined with naïve

you weren’t reaching for my heart when you went to hold my hand,
forcibly lacing my fingers like ribs around your ****.

I still wonder if dropping the I don’t before the know would’ve made any difference.

“I miss you” lit my
phone, as your tongue left its place
to touch her tonsils.

You taste like Sunday morning on Friday night –
something about your body speaks to me in ways only God would understand

and I hope He does.

I wish you’d bite my lip until my mouth gave in and I no longer had words
to describe how you’re different.

Be different.

**** lingering ghosts of lovers past from existence so you’re the only name
my tongue remembers

and utters.

I want you to scratch your future down my spine so I can be –
everything you breathe for beyond these sheets.

Mark me.

I swear to die for you daily and resurrect in our screams,

just fall on your knees.
Be willing to bleed –

love –

my body
breaking for you

my blood
shed.

Your hands are fire,
sunstars singeing my skin with their touch,
you ignite me.

And sparks fly from our crossed screams.

Our *** is electric –
and I’m just praying the power doesn’t go out.

Each breath was a fugitive from her lips,
a scar for which his skin screamed in agony,
tortured by another moment she didn’t know his name.

The alcohol in my system makes me its mission.
Tells me, darling, it’s okay to admit you too are tainted,
something in the silence of the moment says safety, but fear spills from my mouth as
words stain the air with glass bottle shards of no going back.

His whiskey lips bleed, “I don’t know what to say...”

I don’t know which words to have him kiss feed back to me,
so we swim in rose-petaled silence
and say nothing.