Look, I’ll shed this skin that burns
whenever it rains with memories
I am the witch of floating regret
it lands on my skin, like snowflakes that never melt;
I’ll shed it and I’ll stand, with bloody muscles and fat
will you still love me when my freckles fade into putrid dermis?
Fuck being young and beautiful, I’ve been old
and ugly with doubt since the beginning of time,
eighty-eight point eight lives ago.
I want to build a home for us
inside of your chest,
of your rib cage
where you will hold me and rock me,
and I will tie you to myself
like a rock on the edge of an abyss;
you won’t pull me in the depth
but keep me on land.
I want to build a home for us until my hands bleed,
until they tear with the effort of my love
and the efforts of your acceptance;
there will be no locks on our door
I’ll walk in slowly
when the pressure of the sea becomes too much
and crawl quietly in your heart
where you will hold me and rock me.
Sometimes my eyes go green
when it rains
it pours it floats it floods my cheeks
some rain needs no clouds and I need no umbrella
because I soak and I wait to dry;
I’m a cloth for the windows of your soul,
come stay on my breast and I will milk my tear ducts
your cheeks glow with my kisses.
Find me in the night on the side of the bed
to your left
where you left me the last time
I slept next to you.
Non-serendipity because we made it happen:
I can tell you the minutes and the heartbeats
but I can’t tell you the length of my love;
look, I dress the Earth in its fabric
and the train floats into space like a comet.
We move in tight circles when we do
around each other and within each other;
you can tell my age by the rings in my spine
so cut it open and count them to me
like sheep when I can’t sleep –
there’s one for every day I have longed for this love:
my spine is a hurricane that has taken over the eternity,
its circles endless.
Come home now, let me kiss the space behind your eyelids
where fears dwell because I’m crazy
and my lips curl too much
around your words.
I laughed and they wore me down with their whips
because happiness is forbidden in the land of them;
wait here, I’ll flood their land and burn their crops,
I’ll rain down locusts and the anti-vaxxers bane;
you see, I’ll rewrite the Bible for us
and send them no wi-fi and rush hours
and bad filters on Instagram.
I’m coming now, you know how that feels
I’ll kiss my way home, to your heart.