My sister told me a soul mate is not the person
who makes you the happiest but the one who
makes you feel the most, who conducts your heart
to bang the loudest, who can drag you giggling
with forgiveness from the cellar they locked you in.
It has always been you. You are the first
person I was afraid to sleep next to,
not because of the fear you would leave
in the night but because I didn’t want to wake up
ungracefully. In the morning, I crawled over
your lumbering chest to wash my face and pinch
my cheeks and lay myself out like a still-life
beside you. Your new girlfriend is pretty
like the cover of a cookbook. I have said her name
into the empty belly of my apartment. Forgive me.
When I feel myself falling out of love with you,
I turn the record of your laughter over, reposition
the needle. I dust the dirty living room of your affection.
I have imagined our children. Forgive me. I made up
the best parts of you. Forgive me. When you told me
to look for you on my wedding day, to pause
on the alter for the sound of your voice
before sinking myself into the pond of another
love, forgive me. I mistook it for a promise.
033113
To whom it may concern
Don’t ask me about his lips. The way they ruby and burn. Stretch full over white teeth. Soft with desire, taut like a drum. I want him to make music of me.
Don’t ask me about his hands. The way they are scarred with stories he won’t tell. How they slide thick down his legs as I stare. Mouth cotton; eyes hungry.
Don’t ask me about my hunger. The way my stomach drops tight when he looks at me. The way my palms itch for his bones. His tongue. Don’t ask me about my fear. The way he comes to me.
How I open my mouth to say “Yes” and it comes out “I’m sorry.”
I’m afraid of
a lot of things,
but mostly,
most sincerely,
I am afraid of
being completely
unraveled by you,
and you finding nothing
you want in here.oh it’s this.