undo it for me.

undo me
from you.

slowly.
so you don't notice

slowly so i can heal.


undo you from me.
untie our limbs

separate the truth
from our hearts
finally.

i want to tell you all the time
  you were touched by magic.
you're the most magic that i know.

and i can only dream of you
and your blend of magic

but i just can't let myself.
i've missed it again by years

oh madrid,
i've missed the scent of you
your sanded brick and the way you
sink into the ocean
like the thoughts of all my mothers
(i feel myself melt into her
all the time).
and i can only trust the parallels of
our ages to be my guide.
where were you at 23, at 28?
what kind of money did you have
-were you happy?
you own none of that now
and i can't help but feel like
i'm wasting so much time.
oh mother, oh madrid
how did i do this to myself
i should have had a child by now.
i'm losing myself to time again.

i can't breathe when you smile. my
tongue escapes me. i can't breathe
when you smile. you take away my

mouth.

i   can't   breathe
when   you
smile  



now you've stolen my eyes
and i can only smile back
-a fool.


i feel new to me when i look
at you.

and i can only look at you
slowly.(through quiet eyes
to take
in your fullness)



-slowly, how i fell in love again
with your hands

let me barely know you

let me know only your surface
and your hard words.
let me know your bones
and the skin of your hands.


i see what you see
in the ocean.
i know of your parent's home,
how they made you.
layer, after layer, after layer, of good.


let me barely know you -
i feel you're just too large for me.
you're bigger than my ocean
you're a blue i can't name.
i feel like i miss you,
and i see you every day

we counted our mother's shoes
on the day that she left.

her silver rings hung on chains,
thin and silver too.

this was our home,
where she took off her
broken hands and
turned her glass
heart to dust.
she only floated when she left
so the wind and the sea could
carry her
her red wine and red body felt
heavy then.
a thick coat of honey on her tongue


what have you made of her, my
mother.
where did you keep her heart when you were
done with it.
what did you cover her eyes with?
you didn’t untie your tombs
from her when you threw
her into the ocean
why did she drown for you?


she mistook your hardness for understanding.
she mistook your attachment for trust
and you, so blind, led (let) her.