Cut

Did you know if I put this pen down the sadness in my soul will wail and cry out for me all day in deep moans to pick it up again, pleading with me to spill the ink and relieve the pain. Did you know that when I look into her eyes I can see a tigress staring back at me through the spinning of countless tiny slits and pixels, the flashing of nocturnal yellow lights reflecting me back into myself a thousand times a thousand times. Her full lashes lifting and dropping as though a siren song, a heavy burden aching for release, come into me, come closer, this could take us into dangerous places, this could take all night. Did you know that my first poem was written in fruity scented pink and purple gel in a spiral notebook whose wires I had bent and unraveled so many times it began to cut my skin and catch the threads on my knit sweater when I pulled it, tattered and torn, from my rainbow backpack. Did you know my first boyfriend was as shy as I was and it made me sweat all over for reasons I had yet to understand, but I liked it when he kissed me with his young soft lips, fumbled a trembling hand through my long strawberry blonde hair. He used to watch me from the window of his school bus. He told me so and I wonder if he’d be surprised I still remember such a tiny detail. But things like that are monumental when your world and your body are so small. Did you know that I can’t stand the sun because to me it sounds like screaming. That when a thing shines too bright I am afraid of the shift in its intentions. Did you know I love the darkness, outside and in. Pull the apocalyptic heavens over me, tell me to kneel before you in the pouring drench of the evening rain, wet me. Make me repeat your name in the shadows as you touch me from behind, whisper what you’ll do to me with that fervent tongue of yours, teeth trailing bite marks down my spine. Did you know I like it when my fingers are pale and my dagger nails are blood down your back. When I take the length of you in my hands I taste the curved edge of you like a final prayer before spiraling down into my own beautiful death. Did you know I think of you as if without you there would be nothing left. There are lights but they are low and tempting. I can see their warmth, the cruel intrusion of my sharp desire, flicking in your chest.