running my nails down your back
i picked up coconut flakes and corpuscles
mud and diamonds, salt and iron
all the dna i would ever need
to love or accuse or become you:
for love knows no direction
in its first passionate seconds
except the transfer of skin
and whether it dies or lives
is a question of division:
will i be more myself tomorrow
than i was before we paired
or will i lose myself in you
and strangle this affair?
and do you see me as the bride
who has so much to do
or was i made to placate you
and all your changing moods?
the questions are exponential
and never written in code
it's a miracle we divide at all
with such pathetic souls
beneath my nails, your skin turns
from fairy dust to globules
thickens and combines with
the callouses on my fingertips:
there is no scraping you away
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