untitled.

i. open up like a moon-blooming flower

crossing statelines at midnight, i picked up a guy who told me
that if you eat enough marigolds, you turn into the sun, hovering
above an ocean that gleams like the sweat-soaked small of a back
where we could hear the chanting of om off in the distance
like the moment between dreaming and waking.

ii. fuck like phospherescence

it’s okay, you can hurt me, i want to tell him. he cups
my chin in his hands like an egg in a spoon. he kisses me and his
eyes are the color of lit televisions. he would never hurt me.
i graffiti myself on the ceiling afterwards, a glow-in-the-dark
picture of what could have been.

iii. close the world like a light

i will fold my hands into a brown bird to create an eclipse that will
shadow your heart, and feed you marigolds that will still shine
in the darkness. we will craft our own hallucinations out of glowing
filaments of loneliness and find each other there at the edge
of the world, keeping our eyes open as we fall into the universe.