We are looking at each other with eyes
that say, “wanna fuck?”
Your strong yet feminine body
calls to me, like midnight
waves hitting the sand.
Electric fear disguised as excitement
travels like a snake down my chest
and I confuse my restricted airways
and tense neck with being alive, and into you.
In fact, I feel so alive I exhale my spirit
through my mouth, and I say,
“I want to fuck you,
but I don’t know you
and I don’t usually consider this
but how are we going to be safe?
I don’t have sexual diseases, but
do you?
What if I fall in love?
Are you deserving of the better parts of me?
The toxic parts of me? The poems,
the clinginess, the sweet gestures?
My willingness to overwork for you
and abandon me?
Because that would make two of us
disrespecting me, and up until now,
I have considered that to be normal.
I’m too self-absorbed to consider
what’s “normal” for you,
and you don't let me get close
anyway, even if I were to ask.
At any rate,
I’m tired of loving bodies who abandon
me at sunset, I’m tired of becoming
a stranger to myself, through your cold shoulders
& your warm behavior, I’m tired of bodies who talk
about an impossible future together,
when our values don’t even align.
As I get sick and break down,
I should be asking, what are we building now?
I’m tired of building with people who only
have intentions of tearing things down,
people who never intended to share a life,
people who hold me in my fragility,
people who don't reveal theirs
because that’s safer than to let
ourselves hold our own pain.
I feel less humble when I help others
and more humble when I help myself
and I see how deep the shit goes.
How many more heartbreaks
do I have to experience before I admit
I’m breaking my own heart,
I'm have been
breaking my own heart,
obsessing about how to make us work
while you think I'm your enemy,
I'm breaking my own heary heart
by not leaving you, by waiting every night
and every morning by the door
like a dog whose owner probably died
I break my heart when I see cars driving by
hoping it’s you, in my neighborhood
at my door, anxiety and pain
disguised as love, obsession.
Instead, I have to mend my heart
by seeing the world as it is.
This desk is a desk, I’m doing what I’m doing.
The people around me are the people who are
so how I feel about them, what do I choose to do
is what I become, so I choose to become the ocean
and swim with the sun and the birds
& I become concrete and dust, running
through California mountains and Florida streets.
I become my brother and my co-workers.
I become the water I drink, I become words
beyond these words, I become silence…”
So anyway, stranger,
I don’t think I’m going back to your place tonight.
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