To a Sad-Ex Lover
Location
I want to rub honey
into your wounds and
stitch them shut with strands
of my hair. The freckles on
your shoulder blades form
a constellation and what I
would give to travel through
your solar system. Your
heart is a planet whose surface
is too hot for landing. You
are a playground and I am
a child sliding down the
small of your back. I
am a sailor lost at
sea and your skin is The
Bermuda Triangle. At
night I lay my head on
your chest and you
breathe in waves. There is
an ocean inside of you and
you’ve got shipwrecks along
your spine and I will
build a lighthouse inside of
you to guide the rest home.
Before bed I draw pictures
in the trench of your
backbone and have you guess.
I trace the shape of an Elephant
because spiritually they are
known to ward off nightmares.
Yet you still scream in your
sleep and I can’t wake
you so I sit on the floor
of the shower until you
wake yourself. Your bones
are so fragile as I
hold you in the palms of
my hands like a fallen
baby bird. You’ve
got gashes on your
cheekbones from your
father but your body is a
canvas and your sadness
comes in so many
shades of blue. You remind
me of all the ways
a soul can bruise.