Have you ever liked someone so much you regret meeting them?

You call me lover
for the first time
and I sigh,

You think that's charming
that my pupils are roses
Blooming with equal affection.

I push you then,
And you think I am coy,
Shy by the strength of your feeling.

I take a breath,
and taste the rejection
pooling in my mouth.

I want to tell you,
that I don't love you.
That you don't love me.

That we don't love each other,
or ourselves,
That there are empty spaces.

Holes within ourselves,
Caverns deep inside of me,
That I can't even begin to understand.

I want you to say that I am stranger,
Just another lost girl in your bed,
That I don't even know my own name.

But you would just call me,
"your rambling lover"
and so I close my mouth.

And kiss you.

Within the dark capsule of closed eyes,
the soul seeps its way through,
and one becomes two.

A twisting, intangible face within organic casing,
detached and pulled from physical being,
falling upwards against streams of

watery blue and mossy green,
losing fingers and feet along the way,
failing to grasp at the invisible silvery cord
attached to its belly.

Plunging face first into a pool of cool gray,
Sound dulled by the wet hum of nothingness
flowing through starfilled ears.

Utterly embraced,
Transparent, transcended and weightless.
Floating calm amongst the outer waters of consciousness.
And for a moment, finding itself
free.