My whole world,
my precious Pluto —
they would take away your name,
take you away from me.
I will be their Persephone again —
oh,
no,
not the daughter of the fields,
but the Wife of a cold hell,
rising with bones and blossoms
to wreath the pigs for slaughter
and enchant all their children
to forever sleep.
Would that be enough
Wouldn’t it be nice
Would you be mine
Wouldn’t you love it if
I was dreaming
just a moment ago, dreaming
of a life where I had
you, dreaming
of a time when you were
mine.
Now, I find,
I’m drifting
through the lonely spaces, sifting
through the lonely faces, dreaming
of the way everything was
on fire, dreaming
of the way you lifted
me up while we talked
so fast we had to use
our hands to slow
ourselves down, to make
space inside the worlds we were
creating
together. You asked
me to be
yours, once. I’m finally saying
yes and I hope
to all I ever hope
to make
that you’ll hear
me, and still want
me the way you once did,
so many lifetimes ago.
because you’re not supposed to exist but
just in case it ever happens just in case
it matters just in case all the worlds
within and without me spring into motion
into sudden life and become more than they are
just in my blood just in case just in case
just in case just in case i wanted to tell you
that I love you and I wish I didn’t exist, too.
–is thundering in my chest.
I can feel it,
beating,
skipping
beats,
the strangest tattoo
that echoes inside
the meat of me,
pounding like
it has to get out,
like the sound of it
is something screaming.
I can feel my whole self
shuddering, trembling.
I have that feeling again,
the wretched crawling feeling,
the ‘I can’t get out of my skin’ feeling,
the ‘void thing sitting on my chest’ feeling.
The black itch
that worms its way up the back of my neck
until it’s swiveled behind my eyes,
and seized my tongue.
I have to drink
it out. I have to fuck
it out. I have to burn
it out. I have to gouge
it out. I have to. I
have to. I have to. I have
to. I have to. I have to.
I have to.
I can’t
stop here.
I can’t stop.
I can’t stop here.
This is where
the bad things happen.
The crossroads of indecision.
This is where they come and tell you
how awful you are.
This is where you ruin everything.
This is where you fail.
This is why
the sky is so heavy
and has to be held up.
Don’t get close enough
to tell me to be strong.
Don’t get close enough
to tell me it will be all right.
I will bite you
and burn you
and curse you.
I’m not worth it,
anyway. I’m just
a broken thing,
used up and
done with.
Not
that
you’d
ever
even
notice.
I’m a safe skin you wore
and I’m lying to myself
louder than
I’ve ever lied to anyone,
so I don’t have to show them
they’re right.
“I’m wrong” is the sound
of the valves opening
and closing
on the ice that moves inside me.
A heartbeat all its own.
