when you kissed me in the tunnel,
we were split in two like an atom.
we made our mouths to move
over a set so soft and scared,
and we named her like a flower.

we traded gifts,
and froze our feet
barefoot in the stream,
where the stone looked like
the flooring of a 1970's kitchen.

the blond-haired children stared
and held the hands of their mothers,
as they floated within feet
of our three headed body
on a tapestry by the lake.

we watched the wind
take the water in ripples
like the shudder of my thighs
when you're pressing into my soul,
trying to fuse us back together.

the green and brown stains
on the knees of my jeans
were proof the day happened
i wore them for five days after
so memories couldn't be washed out

Suffocation.

I want blackness to coat me
and to silver my open eyes
into a blindness of silence
where my eyelids
will no longer flutter
like damp butterflies
on your scarred cheeks

I dreamt of laughing gas
and the infectious feeling
of filling my lungs
with something other
than the air I so often inhale
in deep desperation
when you're breathing above me

when you wouldn't let me
hold your hand by the road
i felt like blacking out
under some bruised horizon
in some other town
where nobody would care
if i went off and got hurt

could've had some broken life
the way things were going
could've kept wandering on
with no reason to live
and an irrational conscience
but then you came around
and boy you changed the plot

Look here, i am drowning
but do you hear my plea?
you see me sinking
and you stand singing
some familiar folk song
we used to make love to
when love was kept pure

Not even 10 feet of flood water could keep me from you.

A night spent drinking your brother's supplies
and singing along with the saddest songs.
Swaying in the dark damp street near your house.
I laughed and held your arms away,
while you struggled against my defenses.
The family downstairs wasn't home
but we'll still pile textbooks over vents,
and worry over lighting candles indoors.
Softly, I move my feet over the carpeted floor,
avoiding that one place right before your door
where the loose plank underneath always creaks.
Our bodies glow in the faint light in the street
that filters softly through the church windows.