why must my heart be like feathers falling too
quickly?
i cannot help but feel and love and feel and love
and it is all too much.
he has been in my dreams, a shadow
who kisses my eyebrows and walks with
patience besides me.
i believe this is the flesh him even though i know.
his questions are nothing of substance, and i
know he is eager to slip my veil off again and
again and again.
but can't he see my rib bones poking through my chest?
i am in love with his tongue, and perhaps nothing
else.
he reads poetry but holds no compassion.
eager to lick but quick to bite my
lips together.
i am so much more than my open legs.
i am so much more than my ripped tights and rimmed eyes.
but he stares at me like fish in tanks.
eyes too wide and mouth agape.
i am not the food placed on the surface, waiting to be
swallowed and digested.
when i try to pry open his chest,
he pushes me down.
lathers me in silver until my throat is
hollow.
he is a writer
but refuses to see the words in
people.