longing. yearning. wanting. so many words for
a singular feeling. they never taught me how
to love an enigma. mystery’s an intrigue.
it wrenches you in like
beast in beauty and the beast. joker in joker—
now this is not to say you’re a ******* furry or
an anarchist’s wet dream: you are holy.
holy, as in baptise me
in your aprillian light;
grind my guts into grime
break my bones into brimstones and
let me love you twice
as hard. thrice the hurt.
four times the trouble,
five times the heart
you see, i’m very good at counting.
i’ll even do it for the both of us.
like how it’s been 437 days since saturn tore her knees.
75 days since you were anointed god.
20 after we fell apart and i know
i’m jumping into conclusions again. i know
you never said goodbye. not really,
but what is “see you when i see you” if not a gentle rejection?
you’re very fond of maybes,
that’s how i knew you were god.
so maybe we’ll meet in september,
shades of chartreuse forgotten under our feet.
changes in the weather, changes in the sweater
your touch no longer seduces me like summer
so then maybe,
with bones regrown like eden
i will reach for your temple
and show you how much i love you.
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC
longing. yearning. wanting. so many words for
a singular feeling. they never taught me how
to love an enigma. mystery’s an intrigue.
it wrenches you in like
beast in beauty and the beast. joker in joker—
now this is not to say you’re a ******* furry or
an anarchist’s wet dream: you are holy.
holy, as in baptise me
in your aprillian light;
grind my guts into grime
break my bones into brimstones and
let me love you twice
as hard. thrice the hurt.
four times the trouble,
five times the heart
you see, i’m very good at counting.
i’ll even do it for the both of us.
like how it’s been 437 days since saturn tore her knees.
75 days since you were anointed god.
20 after we fell apart and i know
i’m jumping into conclusions again. i know
you never said goodbye. not really,
but what is “see you when i see you” if not a gentle rejection?
you’re very fond of maybes,
that’s how i knew you were god.
so maybe we’ll meet in september,
shades of chartreuse forgotten under our feet.
changes in the weather, changes in the sweater
your touch no longer seduces me like summer
so then maybe,
with bones regrown like eden
i will reach for your temple
and show you how much i love you.
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