I put on the lotion that sits by the sink
and my heart briefly pauses.
I am electrified,
it smells like your hair did that night.
My bones start to rattle and hum
to the rhythm that we had.
The words "come here"
shook like mortars
on your lips.
Those two syllables
were explosives
buried underneath the wall
that stood invisibly between us.
You were my bomb shelter.
You were my compass,
I always knew which way to go,
in which direction I needed to travel,
to find you.
Even with zip codes
and times zones
and nearly a continent between us,
I could still hear clearly
your heart hammering into my ear.
Sweet noise destruction.
You were my furnace;
defrosted, I held onto you,
afraid that the cold
would slow my blood again;
more beats and I am more,
less beats and I am less.
With you I was anything,
I was everything,
I was no one
and I was every person
I knew I could be.
All at once.
You were my castle,
no moat.
You stood, humble
and wearing that shade of soft slate
that brought out the forests in my eyes.
Salty rain affection.
Your hands were my favorite umbrellas,
shielding me from the dripping universe.
Days with your sun
and I melted
into an ocean of infatuation.
The nights with your moon
irrevocably changed my tides.
I am still swimming against them.

November rain,
you slay me with your bravery.

Falling without hesitation.

Gathering in clouds.

Praying;

for destruction,
for implosion,
for release.

there is a silent boom

that paves through the bones which I call “mine”

the vision I use, blurs
and the heart sputters

I think that maybe
it will not start again

that maybe this is it

that the blood will finally slow
and stop

that the skin that holds me in will cool
and harden

that the eyes I see out of will glaze over
but not leak

that I will exit
only to enter
somewhere new.

Out into the dark forest
I will go.
I will wait for him,
not patiently,
but I will wait;
at the mouth of an ebony river,
listening to what the Mother has to say.

And out into the thick dark forest
he will go,
hunting for me.
Searching
like my warm breath
on his neck
keeps his heart beating.

From miles away
he will hear me
whisper his name,
my love rippling through the soil.

Leaves will fall
with the trembling of my hands,
just before they rest on his shoulders.

And in the unearthly spotlight
we will be guided
into the lustrous mist.

And we will thrash and thunder
and bang and crash,
triggering landslides.

We will march on,
our hands clasped
with a fierceness nearly flammable,
fire threat level: crimson.

With a smack
and an echo,

things of mine are broken.

Blood vessels detonate,
spilling, flourishing, blooming
under the seven layers of my armor,
blushing shades of
red, blue, green.

They are embarrassed
by their fragility,
shy about the reminder
that they are not steel.

Immortality is
flamboyant as ever,
my shining ichor,
a beacon for the reaper,
whose mouth begins to water.

Only a false alarm,
the green and yellow
glistening contusion whispers.

Dust myself off
and keep walking,
Pain fades,
and my heart keeps beating.

my august crisped shoulders long for pallor
and the warm graze of sea foam green wool sweaters.
my tongue yearns for the pleasing punch of cinnamon
and the silent shocking spice of pumpkin.
long nights full of honey glazed tea
and apricot scones that melt me from the inside out.
electric bulbs resting on branches
illuminate the leaves who surrendered
to the numbing temperatures
that seep into all things they reach.

I squint so hard I can’t believe my eyes are not diamonds yet,

and there you are.

There you are, walking.

Away from me. With your dress on a date with the wind. I think you have a rock stuck in your left shoe.

Your hair is a 14 karat waterfall and I don’t need to imagine the skin you have pierced with your eyes, I still have a stud in my heart somewhere. It’s a nice memento but inconvenient at airports.