frustration seeps into floorboard cracks, like
dust settles, like
iron filings in your eyes
dark and sharp—mine are magnets.
i couldn't look away today.
inflamed veins bring
color to the surface as the skin at the
back of my neck
burns bright and warm.
i'd like to say that there are
bruises in strings of black pearls
crowning each vertebrae; i'd like to
say that my throat isn't stoppered and
plugged like a glass test tube.
i'd do anything for us to feel a little closer.
and you shift like liquid nitrogen
while i vaporize, quietly.
i am shyly smiling, a tug
at the intersection of my liplines
and mouth, pulling up, up, up—
parachutes and crochet needles.
i'd like to write our epilogue in prose that
tosses you on windswept waves, like similes that
sail and metaphors in motion.
i'd like for you start this conversation gladly,
and i'd like to hear the gasp of oxygen
that rushes blindly from your lungs before
you say my name.
say it loudly, say it proudly.
and please eradicate the
tension in your voice-strings left over
from our silent fights
because this time, i