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Meryl Wisner May 2011
My blood thrums against the confines of its veins
waiting for you to break my capillaries like you broke my heart
and pull it to the surface where everyone can see.

You left your hickeys like highlighters,
fluorescence on my skin.
Bit lip muffles and ****** sheets
We ended just when the *** was getting good.
It was some kind of beautiful
pulling those noises from you.
some kind of worship
I want to be the patron saint of your skin
of the flat shield of your sternum
of the way your eyes flutter closed when I touch you.

I slide into bed next to your shadow
and I want to scream underwater.
Butterfly wings,
you are a tsunami.

I’ve been watching dandelions
waiting to make wishes on dead weeds
The house always wins,
but everybody keeps trying.
And I don’t know how to gamble except
all in

I called you scared
but you have yet to realize that you are
Me, I’ve never been afraid of eternity.
But I didn’t see enough of your skin
to remember all of your tattoos.

When you run away I’ll chase you across the equator
where not even the sky’s the same.
Everyone tells me you’re not worth it
but one smile
and I’ll throw a lasso ’round the moon.

I don’t want you to know I’ve been writing poems about you
until you hear the way my voice cracks on the last line.

— The End —