Disaster

There was a river inside of you

and I wanted

to cause a drought.

I wanted to put each other to sleep

with all the different ways

we learned to say

“I’m sorry.”

Stop asking me why—

everything was a mistake.

Here is one I wanted to continue making:

finding your body in the pitch black with my teeth.

Watching you lick your hands clean.

Don’t ask why.

There aren’t enough ways to defend myself

against all the things

that I shouldn’t have done.

If this is what we meant by “being stupid”,

we should have said: “asking to suffer.”

I didn’t mean to

but you already do.

If this is how you will stay

then this is how

I will keep you.

Here:

I wanted to feel the hair on your ears

firing my synaptic terminals

and turning all the lights on

in my brain.


You want to dream about me?

I want to dream about you, too.

But I already do.

Here:

I miss seeing you by your mailbox

in your pajamas at six p.m.

Your palms sweating,

your forehead sweating,

your entire body sweating.

I miss your eyelashes

on the inside of my thighs.

I don’t know why.

If this was a choice

then I don’t know if I made the right one.

I don’t know if I ever do.

Here:

come back to me.


Does this make you feel more real?

Here:

I wanted to tell you about your rail thin arms

and how I miss the way

that they were long enough

to completely wrap themselves around me.

Here:

I got used to it.

Here:

I want you to fall asleep inside of me.

Here:

I miss your mouth.

All I have are these words.

I don’t know why.

Here, here, here.