On the floor I see the once
pinned fortune cookie paper.
It’s a dumb piece of paper that I’ve kept.
What does it matter what pulls us forward?
I watch the pieces of my life rearranging,
it’s a picture that almost makes sense. I
just have to get there, have to wait for the
“fall into place”, for the dust to settle.
Even now I listen for the sounds
you hear as you push in a piece
just where it belongs.
Reassurance has weight in my hands.
We imagine the things we need,
what does it matter, what keeps
our feet moving on?
Three months from that date,
I’m counting down. I’m a sucker for
things that aren’t real like fate, like
gentle waves of air in the shape of a
hand, sent from something bigger.
I place the paper back on the cork board.
I ask July to be kind.
What I like about you is that
you can’t hide, not really.
You make me think of open things,
movements that never really stop,
soft things my hands could snap in half.
Know I want to hold you better this time.
I don’t see walls just an ocean of emotions.
I can come to you when I miss the sea.
She called you Rapunzel and you
swish your tied hair back and forth,
swish your hips back and forth.
Show me pictures of your rats and how you look when the sun hits your face. Warm.
I want to know what makes you
smile at night like it’s morning
and you have the entire day
and you want it.
Tell me how more about what impossible must be possible, mathematically speaking of course.
How our recent discoveries mean more is
boiling under the surface.
I watch your freckled face like
I watch the stars. With curiosity
and awareness of the space between us.
this heart beating like knocking on doors,
scared you’ll answer. scared you won’t.
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.
Let me count the ways
this could go. We’ve got chances and multiuniverse theory. We’ve got time
and I have enough courage
to meet you halfway.
I wish you’d show me the ocean when it’s calm too.
You make me think of water and
other things running. A way
is all I ask for. I’m a lighthouse
calling your name to me.
I’m tying myself down, rope in mouth
rope on skin, holding us down.
When it’s said and done
we’ll make it or we won’t.
Like feeling so relieved
you could puke.
So relieved you can’t breathe.
So relieved your body
doesn’t know how to
not be in high gear.
Doesn’t know what it means
to have enough air to breathe.
Too much air to breathe.
Like fall to your knees
I could weep because
I don’t know how to
thank the stars and universe
that somehow it worked out.
For a little while. Resetting
the countdown clocks,
I don’t know any other sounds
lately but ticking bombs.
I flinch with loud calls and clocks.
Reminders. Reminders. Reminders.
How am I suppossed breathe when everything is a countdown?
Everything is a cycle and a race
to the next line
that looks like the last line
that looks like mirror
against another mirror.
I don’t know any way to push forward
that doesn’t also snap me back.
Don’t know any ways out of holes
except building into new ones.
Don’t know how I’ve made it again,
to the next line anyway…
Translated means self devouring.
What if the kind of love
you can give me is the kind
that will eat itself alive?
Meaning I wonder when you’ll
hollowing. I wonder if you’ll notice me hollowing,
notice the self devouring that happens
after you fall asleep.
The cracking in my chest
when I lay my head on you.
Starving to keep you fed.
maybe my loneliness is just a result of my soul being put into this human body, the separation of a collective, the soul’s sadness of our bodies confinement. alone. all i have are these water down words. this fragile skin, this fumbling tongue producing poor translation. this chest that only knows knows cycles, this body only knows how to continue. puzzle piece body. trying to fit.