there is some great glowing thing buried
somewhere in my skin and
nothing in the world scares me half as much.
when you ask about fear, i'll mention
heights and strange men and
shadow-things,
but never the wildness in my bones
or the poison in my veins or
the slow oozing dark that's running
down the rivets in my brain.
some things are too sharp and slippery
to name.

i never meant to hurt you, but my love was
beastly and burning and
maybe you were scorched beyond repair.
i tangled my fingers in the
fibrous network of your nerves
and carved secrets into your spine.
i did not know how to love gently.
i ****** your breath into my lungs,
briny and saline and
wild like the ocean,
and now i can't breathe but
i can still taste you there.

the inky, fractured spirit in my skull
is stronger than my best intentions and
stronger than the love with which
you tried so desperately to drown it.
all the broken things in me
were more than we could fix.

i'm sorry i stopped calling.
you deserved better.