it was clandestine. there were mysteries in the spaces

between our fingers, between sharpie words on bathroom mirrors: i hold

stars in my hands and wipe liquid tears

from your cheeks with my thumbs. you tell me i sound

insane when i talk like this, i say try living a lifetime

looking for eternity. looking for something you will never find.

we decayed together. the neighbor’s dogs found your bones, but mine, they couldn’t find.

it rained yesterday. you cried and told me there was still space

in your closet for my skeleton, i said we don’t have enough time.

you told me you would hold

my organs. i said stop with the pleasantries. we will sleep to the sound

of rain on our tin roof. it sounds just like angels’ tears.

wake up to a house fire. you tear

all our seams open, rip out our stuffing and find

arson in my eyes. truth is drowned out by the sound

of tennis rage, ablaze, madness bleeds into the space

between our warm bodies. i can no longer hold

you without burning my skin. soft withers in time.

hours later, you find me stuffing my mouth with clocks, swallowing time

or trying to, crying at how it’s all unraveling from the tear

in the fabric of our everything, spilling out a pot that can’t hold

my ocean. maybe i should’ve been kinder, maybe you should’ve. i find

eternity in the puddle of me, reflecting darkness like the void of space.

i wish supernovas made a sound.

you live and breathe mysteries, losing yourself to your unsound

mind, finding yourself in silence. speak to me, this time

i will listen. crack open your bones, there is dust and glitter filling every space

in your body and i will dance in it, cry with crystalline tears

of ecstasy and find holiness in your husky whispers, find

satanic verses carved in your walls, find your soul—the one i hold

in the palms of my hands. i finally understand what trust means. hold

mine too, will you? protect me from your teeth and the sound

they make when they snap my love in half. find

me broken, cut your skin on my shards, and piece me back together with your blood. time

is just a band-aid on an earthquake. when i’m thirsty i drink bottles of your salty tears.

tomorrow i will reach for you, but between our fingertips there is so    much    space.

neighbors, call back your dogs. they won’t find what decomposes. i hold

a heart full of empty space and wish the sound of your voice meant something more

but this time, i will wipe your liquid tears with my thumbs and sleep alone.