i.

Don't even try to reach me
now, unless you mean it,
unless your skin is
crying, unless the back
of your eyes are bleeding.

Don't. i'm as inconstant as
the weather.

ii.

your hair looks like
the center of a sunflower. it's
like the sun spinning
off the waves when your skin
moves and you give that
shudder so i know...

iii.

thank god for your mouth,
the deep cave, the treasure
grove. for the riches,
the sparkling gems that
are your teeth, your
invisible tongue. for the

pants, the sighing, the
son of god praises

iv.

we will wait for sunset and the nymphs
skimming through the water
the pearls of their stomach,
their hair like fine gold.

the moon looks like the broken
glass in your sink. when our
hands join, you shiver.

v.

i love the imperfections on
your skin. love your blemishes,
love the redness glaring. i love even
the skin that swirls into
your belly button, like
a conch shell. love the white (un)
touched skin hidden your clothes.

vi.

and
jesus christ, your hips.

v.

when you look at me, sometimes,
it's like watching london
burning. i want to move, throw myself
at you, want to
just cry and run away.

vi.

your hair looks like
ink spilling down a page. i want
to make sense of it. but there's so much
to learn, like how comfortable
we fit as if someone drew us

maybe not for each other, but at least
for everyone the other could be.

vii.

your gums teach me not
to cry out. your
teeth have choked me.
your tongue has never
ventured to mine.

viii.

i have breathed
into you. my stomach has
sobbed into your hands. the world
has looked fuzzy when we’ve touched. and,

the one time i opened my
eyes when we kissed, you
were staring, and

jesus, do i love your skin.

ix.

this is not what i meant
nor is it what i wanted to say.

i only wanted to sing something
about how your spine looks like subways.