Damascus morning coffee poetry.
Sobering thoughts. Best of luck finding me when I am gone. Maybe you won’t notice.
First draft poems for people who don’t listen.
I will now lock my heart away, or whichever muscular part of me
constricts at the sight of your face,
pumping nerves throughout a body aching to root itself in your length,
entangling all your width in my folds,
letting you sleep as I wordlessly chant prayers to safeguard us.
I will now be silent, I will
write poems to you only in my stomach, and speak of desire behind
my eyes, opaque to you.
I will smile with only the front of my expression,
and leave all depths stowed out of the reach of your hands, undemanding.
I will wrap my lungs in bubble plastic, keep them
breathing out personal ash from flames you will only now vaguely remember.
I will wrestle you out of my center,
throb want only in places transient and too quick to dry,
slowly ebbing heat away to lukewarm union,
a door creaks shut softly,
you too loud to hear it between us.
I will take the best of myself and bury it underwater, let you float on the salt
water surface of my love,
until I am of earth and plant matter, sunlit through skies too blue to
haunt you, blind.
Until I am so far away, the kisses you stamp on me crack nothing
but a shell of what could have been,
until the words you may have said are lost in winds of a
body sinking into itself, a cage constructed of your disinterest,
till I am a ghost. Till you are alone,
wondering what cold air gusted around you, a space devoid
of my breath, a coffin in the corner to plague,
the mourned demise of my laughter as I
the entrances to our ever after.
I will lock down my heart,
till one day, sought eternally, from the center of earth
from my inner fracture,
I am released from the deep, from the down under,
by a traveler,
eyes wide open to my rapture.
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