I'm wearing the fishnets
that you ripped apart
to kiss my ass
while I lay on my belly, a year ago.
When I walk I can feel the strings pull
tight across my skin.
They are hardly functional anymore, but
I make do.
I don't remember what your hands look
like
but I remember how they felt wrapped
around my throat
-comforting.
My mouth longs for something that it
has never tasted before
possibly a spice that only grows in
India,
it drips at the thought of a flavor it
has yet to dissect.
The leaves are rusting and falling
the air smells exactly like it did
when I was eight years old.
Dew drops form on everything
covering it all in glitter
I touch my tongue delicately and
deliberately to the cold metal rod
next to the bus stop
and flick the pearls of water into my
mouth
I've done this all before
deja vu
Autumn is wine in a box
that you sneak from the fridge
sometimes your mouth was the cup
beneath the spout
and you drink until everything is a
little warm and fuzzy
It's the tree sap that clots your hair
together
like deep vein thrombosis
It's crunchy and magic
like gravel covered in gasoline
beneath your feet
I want to run my fingers through
someone's hair
I don't mind who
I want to make someone feel safe
so that I can feel safe too
so that we can feel safe together
because the world right now seems so
far away
and still so disgustingly nostalgic
like too much sugar in your sweet tea
I want my hands to burn and blister
from too many hours spent on the monkey
bars
I want to be dirty
the kind of dirty I used to be...
and hide in the tall grass in my angry
grandma's unkempt yard
I want to find solace in my own
fingertips
and remember that they know how to
touch me, best. Right there.
Mostly, I wish I knew what I wanted,
besides 8 hours of dreamless sleep.
