walking along
the shorelines of the abyss —
the corals are charcoal,
and the sand is coarse.
hand in hand with cacti —
your thorny grip reaches deep
as I mark my steps,
pollinating the sand beneath;
looking around for seashells,
and hearing their voice —
their echoes cry tales of voyages
and love lost,
of deserted sailors
and meandered lovers.
your lips are dry,
and your hair is tangled —
it looks like it'd hurt
to kiss you.

Smiling at you,
your eyes lowered,
stitched to your shoes,
while your lips invite me,
already aware
of what moves inside me.

I unfasten you
with the slow flutter
of my lashes,
peeling you open
breath by breath,
learning the shape
of your desire
as if it were my own.

A fenced suburban dream
where we raised hyacinths,
and you had a faint smile
under the July sun,
under your cowboy hat.

Breath seeps from me
as I lay on the wet tile,
thinking of you.

Someday, I swear,
we can do everything we want to.
And we can pet the crocodiles.

Every day I think of
untwisting and untangling
these strings I’m in.

Every day I think
of taking your hand
and slaying all who stand in my way.

All these thoughts
have led me
to this cul-de-sac.