if you could learn to love
and if i could wake without the ghosts
of your fingers on my skin, then i guess
we could be alright someday.

we tasted poison on every pair of lips
we’ve ever touched but it never
stopped us from kissing each stranger
that bothered to learn our names.

i met a man with a voice sweeter than candy
and i melted on his fingertips.
you pull apart every woman who tried
to hold you at night; we’ve never felt safe
sleeping naked with the lights on.

there was supposed to be something
to sew our bodies back together,
because i’ve never felt whole with
anyone else’s hands on me except yours.

you wear me inside out like a piece of art,
and the only act that i will ever call holy is
the kind i dream about,
where you remember
exactly how to make me implode.