a warning:
to touch your face is difficult
(nervous hands won't do)
because we are mud.

we are mud
in that every time our skin should meet
we are one
and every time we should part
i am torn from you
like a limb from its tree.

every time we touch
i leave behind pieces of me
and you leave behind pieces of you.

your fingertips erode
and we ebb and flower
like poppies potent enough
to induce a lucid paralysis.

you are not oil
and i am not water
and we will not naturally separate with time.
we will tangle so thoroughly
like twisted arms of metal after a structure fire
as to prevent a clean break.
(this is not a prediction
this is a promise.)

so when you say hold me
know that i can't,
unless it's forever.


a/n: note to self.