I like to think I have a little moon
behind my lips, that you
could reach in & pluck

and in your eyes, reflecting
the rare bits of light that slip through
the blankets we cover the windows
with

I never know whether to look away
or to let them fade  
in slow-     motion

wish I could push    when push is needed
keep a distance long enough and let the salt set
there is a bitter-
nesslike in the corners of my mouth
that I lick when you are too close,
your sweet becomes the air around me,
your sweet, dear

it is so much to
bear

if you pulled back my skin you'd find a layer of grey underneath.
there is nothing new in me, my blood no longer red my flesh no longer
pink just grey and worn parts like the paint thin upon an old metal dinette
set. no ash, for i have not burned, no
mold for nothing could live off of the nothing in me.

then again, there is a heavy in my chest that sits. i cradle it
with my throat (try to pushit   down) and in between
my ears again when i begin to fall asleep, it
urges no dreams but
i like the pressure on my
temples.

my lips, my cheeks like a layer
of icing on a display
cake.


every soft haired, long
fingers will pass me in strides, avert their eyes and
eventually they won't
see me
at all.

give me alittle warning, I could
have you  a little place cleared in my lungs
ready for whenever you need
to take a breath, give me a little
warning. I'll have you a
drawer space clear,
a fist's portion of my
heart in which to boil your blood and
a patch of sunlight in my window
for you to lie in,          bloom
                                   alongside
                                                 me

newspaper pages, leaving ink on my fingertips
a taste I can't get out of my mouth    & I can't re-bite that first bite.
rough, textured like the bottom of a swimming pool and all I want to do
is sit here. run my fingers over.  in the slowmoving distortion of sound and sight.         peaceful, not to know what exactly you're seeing, at first
what exactly you're hearing, at first
but you have to come up for air                          eventually

it's like I was tied to a post, never tried
to untie it, myself but

then your subtle hands
all over

and I was    ******
outand

in all this
space, love ly

can just spin, slower and slow er
until I find (read: believe) that
I don't need to
find

anything
to be
free

I just have to


be