your hair. it was my favorite when it was between my fingers. when i was pulling on it with my back in the pillows. when i was whispering in your ear about how fluffy it is. “it’s like andrew garfield’s.” i still think about it when i wake up to my alarm at 4:45 am for no reason. when i am lying awake in bed listening to the early morning sounds and taking in my favorite time of the day. when i am letting my mind take its morning walk to its favorite places. you became one of them in the few weeks we spent together. and so to you it wanders. to your hair.
i am beginning to feel like i am doing something wrong when i talk to people about you. like there is pressure constantly being forced upon me. that i should be over it by now. that i should be over you by now. that i should stop talking about you, that i should stop thinking about you, that i should stop being about you. i am beginning to feel like i should just keep my thoughts about you to myself. but where will that get me. what good will that do me. how will i heal.
i keep hoping that i will wake up to an apology. i keep forgetting that you have not looked back since you’ve left. not once. i keep trying to tell myself that if you cared you would have said something by now. you would have reached out. you would have handed me your apology in the form of a bouquet or a letter or a simple “i’m sorry.” i keep feeling open-ended. i forgot what it feels like to be closed. to have closure. to know the end of something and why it came about.
mike wheeler sat in his fort everyday. reaching out to eleven. grasping in the dark. for someone who people kept telling him was gone for over 353 days. he kept telling them she was out there. for over 353 days he never got his answer. until she returned to him. until she promised him she would never leave him again.
i wonder if you will return to me. they always come back to me. they remember what they have lost. but you. you were different. you were the only one who left me feeling open-ended. the only one who left me feeling like i held no definition of the word closed. i know you are out there. at your house, or at your grandma’s house, or at a friend’s house, somewhere. probably eating. definitely breathing. maybe thinking about me. i don’t know. i don’t need to hear you say that you will never leave me again. i don’t need you to return to me. i just want to know what made you leave in the first place. i just want my answer.
“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