But when I hear it I will know what it’s like to lay in sheets sewn by God or to touch the petals of a flower in the garden of Eden.
Let me fall in love with its scent, I’ll bottle it up and spray it on my pressure points--
my wrists, neck, wherever you can feel a heartbeat
so, I may find new life in it.
I will melt into an ocean you mistake as a puddle; taste and you will see there is salt in my body. I will show you truth is that ionic compound I’ll give in waves like a hurricane or heaven. It will stick to your eyelashes, skin and leave you with a rash.
Baptize yourself and you will feel how salt can burn the wounds you never knew were there, drown and you will feel how water can become cement in your lungs, grains of acid down your windpipe.
I tend to swallow my pride a little too much, that might be why I suffer from heartburn. But, I was raised by the ocean’s rage and will swallow it for you.
I will let you take my hand, my body’s warmth, the secrets from my lips, me— for granted. I surrender the space in my chest to you, so that my brain no longer has power over this vessel of a body you lick your lips at, panting “take it off”.
When you hear my voice plant a softness in your own so my stomach can explode in a million moths desperate to touch the light in your eyes--
light that will surely kill them.
Light they’ll find to not be the beacon it so promised to be.
Let me become a victim to your fire and I will wear my charred skin like a tattoo masterpiece. Crucify me to a glass display with pins through my seared wings like a trophy or collector’s piece.
Piece by piece I will let you take from me, for granted, every metaphor in my library, till I look like an unfinished puzzle.
I will swear
you are the only one who has the missing fragments and I will hope in vain for you
to give them back.