From a Collection of Unrequited Love
Today I am wearing black lacy underwear.
Just for the sole purpose of knowing that I am wearing them.
And underneath that?
I am absolutely naked.
And I’ve got skin.
Miles and miles of skin.
I’ve got skin to cover up all my thoughts like Saran Wrap.
That you see through to what leftovers are inside from the night before.
And despite what you might think.
My skin is soft.
And easily scarred.
But that doesn’t matter right?
You don’t care about how soft my skin is.
You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark.
But what if all they do is crack open windows.
So I can see lightning through the clouds?
What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb.
For a taste of fresher air?
What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears?
Some people can recognize a tree, a front yard, and know they made it home.
How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking?
How long before I’m lost for good?
It must be possible to swim in an ocean of the one you love.
It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself.
But I keep swallowing what I thought was air.
I keep finding stones tied to my feet.