I bleed you out of me through words
But without once articulating with tongue on teeth.
Like a ragdoll I sat in your toybox too long
and only missed when you remember that I was used
to make a torch-
soaked in kerosene and lit aflame
for you to find your way in life and its darkness.
I had never wished on shooting stars
and did not believe
in sacred geometry or meaning and philosophy.
I cannot play "he loves me, he loves me not" with a four leaved clover,
But I'll rip you apart with the teeth you filed down.
You ask if I love you or not and I look at you with eyes
and water bubbles in my lungs from the times I've drowned
and I can only say
yes yes yes
until I choke.
Be mine to harm and I'll show you that forbidden fruit is always
because we aren't a part of that Bible.
We have our own scrolls in our hearts and we unfurl
them to lick at the words
to guide us and fold them into birds
that take flight with us still pinching
our tongues where they are cut on paper wings.
We'll grow a garden of limbs so that we don't have to always be the same.
I'll show you mine if you show me yours
is that first challenge that leaves soft aches
in the hips and the whisper
that says theirs will never be like