Hung on to the sleeves of your sweaters like they were asphalt concrete, dark and glittery leading me to the other side.
Your gaze pouring lightning into my lungs, lightning in my eyes and I could feel my veins shifting beneath my skin.
You speak in colors, your breath laced with refined sliver, rich caramel gold poetic, static to my ears.
I look at you and I see all the missing pieces of your being like broken glass against the surface of your bedroom floor, like spasms of plastic melting mysteries are etched into your skin. I look at you and I can see you don’t hold that much within.
Maybe that is why you like to fall, from bleak skies that spurt your thoughts like venom then they land upon my frame, get stuck in my throat till I end up choking on my own spit and your lips they seem to turn upwards a smile that makes my stomach clench and my eyes loose focus of what is real and what is a mere concoction, a rusting mixture of your hands around my neck and my lungs fighting for breath. -H