on intimacy.


I wish I could drink your sweet coffee cream to wear around my shoulders

Something pleads for me to let my body quake before ever asking one of these girls to hold me

so I shut down the jungle gym in my rib cage because I don’t want to let people in to play anymore

Because the first girl that I ever let in that swollen cave was making constellations of needle pricks in her forearms so no matter what time it was she could see the stars

And mama you tried to warn me that if I ever fell for a girl with eyes that stormy

I would drown.

I swear on those twin freckles on her chest that my arms never stopped flailing to try to keep afloat in that hopeless ocean

but I was just a kid and children can’t fight the strength of the tides. 

I remember the day her knuckles kissed my cheek goodbye when I told her I couldn’t tread her salty sea  anymore

as my pruned lips hit the carpet I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry because my tiny pink heart had just been baptized.

/End Fragment