i wonder if this is
what love feels like
your hand ****** in the collar
of my shirt

our faces so close
i could lean forward
and kiss you gently

or bite your lip
make you bleed
like i have bled

instead, i bite my tongue
tasting copper
but nothing i will regret
having said

like all these apologies
stagnating in my throat
maybe a broken plea
but i don’t know what for

i’d ask you
if i could find my voice
putting the pressure on you
to fix this

and that’s selfish, isn’t it?
wanting you to hold me
like one would a lover
without the other iterations
of that silly little word

but that’s all i have
ran out of ways to make my sorrow
sound poetic and palatable
long before this infatuation
blind-sided me so cruelly

and maybe right now
this is okay
your hands rough on my skin
but your voice so soft
when you look at me