And I know I’m placing my heart in your mouth and tasting my tears in your eyes, and I know these fingers have no idea why the pain reaches out for healing. Why you like the way I look when I look away. Perhaps in the slender tipping of my shoulders I am an apology you’ve waited for your whole life, the one you cried for which never came. How we cling to forbidden things, my somber love, how we cling.
If you press your listening you may open your fear to things you never thought you’d like to try. Such is your curiosity. Such is the bend of a bloodflower in the dark corner of an empty room. How may I meet this need in you, how would your desire change if we only burn a little light, keep the bedfeathers and the softness of our dreaming dim.
This is the whole of my hunger and thirst, my madness and search, for every last drop of the secrets you keep folded inside the mouth. This is my longing crawling forever on her knees at your side.
This is why I adore the rainy days and give worship for the clouds which hover and divide themselves in endless violent circles. The brutal sun, the cruelty of light, the light is too loud and I seek the solace of the weight of this heavygray. As the shadowy figures of past lovers in my mind grow ever more beautiful and strange, I touch your chin with my fingers and we begin the falling into dust, soaked of the gladness in our hearts for the ridding of the selves we once carried in chains around our necks.
This is the cutting of the ties that bind, the world waits silent behind the blinds.
Together finally: you and I, taking the shape of the poisonous things we thought we’d left so far behind.
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Allison Marie Conway 