Too-salty margaritas
(I knew we shouldn’t have gotten extra coarse salt).
The red gummy melting into my blood,
Our blood. Walking over the fountain
That you don’t remember walking in
Because you were blacked out.

Watching you watch me,
Chin cradled in your hand,
Grinning a little. Pretending like I don’t like it (I can’t help it), but biting my lip and smiling a little in that way I know you like.
Kissing you and melting into your chest and arms and legs.

God has invented gloriously cruel prisons for us.

i am in a room

trapped

for a brief moment
the door opens

for three days
i go outside,

into a high fenced yard
I think i am closer to freedom

i sleep outside
afraid that if i go in
i wont be able to go back out

that doesn't stop them

i am in a different room now
no windows
no beds

i just want to go home

cold air is burning my face but the feeling is muffled, far away.
i look at you, stoic menace.
you are a block of ice and i am a flurry of snowflakes, raging, cold, soft.
you ask me what the heart speaks.
i do not know how to tell you what emotion is, just like i do not know how to explain to you what i am.

(things far too familiar are seldom easy to translate into a language someone might understand, a language that is not your own, a language you've forgotten the taste of)

mountains on my shoulders feel lighter than they should, and you take lightness to mean of less matter.
perhaps you think these mountains have a hollow center, are made of feathers.
you and i are two different forms of water.
i have known ice, and you have known snow, years before today.
i have known stagnance, you have known change, you took the word like an icicle to your chest, falling too far into your cave.
pull me out, you say, and i am frost lining your windowsill.
leave me be, you say, and you are a dull fog, whispering to glass.
through the glass, we interact.
you are trapped.