I could find her in the dark. I know
every *****, scar and tethering in her
skin. Know her like a blind spot ready
to submerge and crash into me. She’s
a tidal wave, concocted by natural
significance — reverberating in be-
tween covers I cannot lift because she’s
everywhere. Honey on her breath and I
swallow her whole, feel her crawling
down my throat until I can’t think no
longer, feel no pain and breathe nothing
but an addicting catastrophe.

I find the moon in between her collarbones
and the sun on her lower back, ready to
***** my waist and burn the living
daylight into my bones while I consume
her body language. She says nothing when
the lights are on and so I trace the empty
spots of her until I am five feet under —
drowning from the thought of her leaving
come next morning.

And yet, I wait for her to smother me and pull
me down until I lose my hearing but
sense her pulsing — manipulating her heart-
beat to synchronize with my choking;
the deeper I drown, the closer she feels.