“i feel like.”
the room is quiet except for our breathing. we’ve had episode two of stranger things on in the background for a good 33 minutes now. in between kisses i was telling you how much i loved finn wolfhard’s voice before he hit puberty. “season two is not going to be the same” you said with your hand in between my legs. “no it’s not. where’s the remote?” and then i told you i wanted to kiss you in silence. “that’s weird. you’re weird” you said. “i’m not going to apologize for it” i said “i want to kiss you in silence for the sake of my poetry.” “works for me.”
we turned the volume off and let the episode play while we kissed away. my lips behind your ears. yours in the dip between my collarbones. now we are here.
“feel like what?”
i’m running my fingers down your front. feeling your muscles working under your skin. watching the way your eyes stay half open while i make my way under your jaw.
“i feel like. you are kissing your poetry into me.”
i stop. our lips are suspended in mid air. everything is frozen. i want to stay in this moment forever.
i also want to know how so i unfreeze everything. “how so?”
“dunno.” your voice is heavy with sleep and arousal. i’m outlining the shape of your face with my fingers. pressing my front against yours because even just an inch of space feels like you are too far away. “it’s like. when you kiss me. i taste your words.”
you tell me you are tired and i tickle your back to sleep the way you like. slow breathing. grip on my bare waist loosening. fallen asleep.
i doubt you’ll feel me but i do it anyway. i kiss your forehead. words. your nose. more words. your cheeks. even more words. marking your skin like pushpins on a world map. i take my hands now and run them down the length of you. words on words on words. just falling. out of my fingertips. onto your skin. onto the sheets. breathe into your ear. more and more words. whisper how alive you make me feel. like all of the words i’ve ever read and heard are inside me and they are all alight.
i take my hands now and trace the outlines of your lips. words and words and words. i feel them ready to pour out of my mouth and so i kiss them into you like fire.
“goodnight” i say. “i like you so much i almost love you.
and thank you for kissing me in silence. while you sleep i’m going to write you some poetry.”
on tuesdays and thursdays we study human anatomy.
it is 3:39 am it is friday morning and yesterday was the introductory class. i know we are more than halfway through the semester but this course is offered year-round and we are able to sign up whenever we want. as for wants i want you you want me we said let’s sign up together and so we did. tonight i am transferring my notes to my wordpress because i don’t like the way it looks in my notebook it is all scribbles and scratches and crossed out words and i think it’d look better in type.
skeletal system. you are kissing my clavicle. tightening your grip on my ribcage. your phalanges on my patellas. my femurs in a v around your pelvis. my bones on your bones on bones on bones. i think if we were to die right here right now in the backseat of your car they would find our skeletons so close together mine on top of yours with our skulls pressed as if in prayer. (see fig. 1a: “10:14 am, parking lot”)
nervous system. with every touch you are sending signals to my brain. my nerves more. my senses heightened. my taste better with you than with anyone else. signals telling my eyes to open. to look at you while i am kissing you. to take in the fact that this is real. to close. my body. it feels electric. like i am buzzing with the thought of you. like i am on the edge of my seat. (irony: we are on the edge of the backseat)
respiratory and circulatory system. you are giving me your air. it feels like i can’t get enough of you. my heart it is racing as if to win gold like you did in high school. my blood i can feel it turning everything warm in my ears my cheeks my fingertips between my legs. i am wondering if my veins and arteries feel overwhelmed. if my lungs are about to collapse. i think if i pass out i hope to wake up with you still under me. (fig. 1b: “in between the front seats”)
muscular system. ? [illegible. writing is too messy to decipher. i think i got lost in lecture here. didn’t feel the need to write. either it was too good or too boring i’d like to think it was the former. reminder to ask m for notes.]
you are so different.
i’m writing in lowercase with you. defying the rules of grammar with you. bleeding poetry with you avoiding prose with you writing after every day with you.
i don’t even get excited to see you i look at you and i feel calm. i hear your footsteps coming up the stairs and my heart it slows a little bit instead of racing forward. i kiss you i watch you walk away and i think to myself wow i don’t feel like jumping at all i feel like going for a swim and floating on my back and it’s one of the best feelings ever.
is this it?
could i relive
your hands on my waist for the first time. tracing your fingers over my skin. like you are reading braille. you are looking at me and i am looking at you and we can read we can see but we are still tracing. as if we can’t.
could i relive
your lips meeting mine for the first time. pressing against me. no taste no tongue no teeth no thing. (i just ate.)
could i relive
your fists pumping the air for the first time. walking away from my car. like a scene from an 80s movie maybe the breakfast club or was it some other molly ringwald movie. celebrating our first kiss living our first kiss loving our first kiss. ours.
could i relive
your fingers intertwining with mine for the first time. bringing them in to you. into into you. laying them to rest on my thighs. push and pull push and pull there is no thing i want to do more with you but pull.
pull. pull you so close into me that we forget the taste of air. pull you so close into me that when we pull away we only remember the taste of each other and when we pull away i’ll ask you.
could i relive
i’m going to
pull an [ee cummings
i like your body.
i like its hows.
i like your hands on the (insides)
of my knees. pulling them closer to you
in our opposite-facing
i like your hands “telling stories”
the sharks in palau
and the famous grilled cheese “pan-fry it, what are you doing,
i like your eyes
like that deer from that cartoon movie
the way they look at mine
i like your ears “bigger than life”
“stop looking at them” you covering them
“they’re freaking cute” [you’re cute]
“nobody says that!
i like your hands pulling my feet up
to play with my vans soles
“that’s dirty” i tell you you wink you smile
“i know i am”
i like. your lips.
(like i’ve just eaten)
(but like i want to eat again)
i like the thrill
you’re new it’s new
so quite new
One of my closest friends once told me that the pain you feel after losing a lover is the same pain you feel after a loved one dies.
I keep trying to tell myself that this pain is temporary. That it will end in a matter of days, or weeks, months at the latest.
But it doesn’t feel that way. I’ve been home for the last six hours trying to get myself together but every thirty minutes my heart starts to hurt. In less than a minute I am biting my fist to keep from sobbing aloud. I have my parents outside my closed door and I don’t want them to know I am grieving. I don’t want anyone to know I am grieving. When I do this, when I am alone, when I am trying my hardest to keep my sadness quiet, it feels like the pain will last forever.
I miss you. I know you are still in my life. But I miss you regardless.
My heart. It feels displaced. Like it is not where it should be. Like it is somewhere in my body that is not within my ribcage. After I wipe my tears and sit down to write something I wonder when it will make its way home.