under your skin
There is a boy and you don’t want to kiss him.
There is a girl and you want to hold her hand in yours,
cradle her head,
pull her between the confines of your rib cage,
have her open her mouth and eat your heart.
There are people who say they are like you
but you cannot relate to them. You say
you are like them but they cannot relate to you.
Is there really a girl or are you trying to
find safety in the embrace of a lie?
Do you think you know who you are any better
than they do?
You listen to them speak in tongues.
All you hear, all you understand, is:
a kiss is the first step in devouring someone else.
The clack of teeth, bones finding bones.
Hate equals love equals hate, means knowing
where they would point the knife and,
possibly, consuming them in spite of it.
Pull her inside you, have her live hidden
behind your skin, imprisoned
or set free, you can never quite tell.
Would you want to breathe her breath,
think her thoughts,
die her death as well?
The boundary of her and you,
them and us,
nothing and everything,
a dead fish’s cloudy gaze.
Be honest, try to see out of your closed lids.
Who is holding the knife?
Your hand is
her hand and her hand
is your hand and
maybe there is no other hand.
The only one who sees your ribs from inside,
grotesque piano bound by flesh in sinew,
exclusively yours,
is you.
GSA