You swore you felt the Earth quake
But I knew otherwise
The force was from the tectonic plates
Shifting within me, my marrow molding
over itself, pressuring the collision of us,
the snake pit that lived in the shadows
of my bones, under my skin, slithered
like a river running rapid, unstoppable.
I watched the drink you cradled like treasure
rise, attaching to your lips by osmosis,
you sipped and I watched the heartbeat
of your gulps, first slow then recklessly quick,
the waterfall from which you took your drink
rushed down, disappearing into the mystery
within you. I wanted more than anything
to be that drink, to wet your lips, to be
the beat that you were so thirsty for.
Somewhere else in the bar, a glass slipped
off its tray, shattered, and people screamed
and they laughed too, soaked whiskey jeans
trudged off to the bathroom looking for paper towels.
You didn’t flinch at the sound of the shatter,
you were off, staring into the void of it all,
and I stared off at the geometry of your jawline,
sharp as rain fall, your eyes glistened with the gloss
of happy, your lips parted to say something
but you turned to me and instead just gazed.
I felt love like the color red, burn in my stomach like a coal.