When you say you want to touch me
I think of paintings. Now
I just think of paintings.
Thinking of sinking ships
and us in them. Holding hands.
I’m afraid of holding dead things.
I can try for you,
slippery hands, throbbing chest, warm skin.
Showing up to keep you fed.
The ship won’t go anywhere but down.
I’ll stay longer, if you tell me
you know that.
I want to hold you with love
but darling we were never in love.
We were never going anywhere
but I packed my bags all the same
because it’s always like this.
Never knowing where I’m going,
where we are going.
I just wanted someone to hold my hand,
hold me down. Honeymoon phase,
always so sweet. You drew me in,
now I’m slipping out.
Can you think of me? I’m
thinking of you and that’s why
a part of me wants to hold this
till the end.


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