Maya

Every time we touched I felt the sun shudder and shatter into a million shards like travelling aircrafts plummeting straight for us, hitting bodies, falling alight. I said everything in darkness; your body, a solitary sun, sat solid. You were like lanterns flickering with laughter at how I called your back the sea. 

 Silent we go, and I want to close.

 Everything, everything spins.

I remember noticing you had a gun shaped bruise on your leg, and I stroked the barrel whilst your mouth set me hot, your out-takes of cartoon carbon floating in bubbles to the left. Always always our arms were like rubbing sticks, and we built fire. 

I attached myself to your fleeting works that sung my bones to glow worms. Each one coming and going, coming and going, in and out of bloodflow, and I loved how you cut through. I told the girl sometimes you see them everywhere and it’s good. I couldn’t contain you stretched like the fifty million horizons in front of me, a whispered secret promise, glinting gold. Tried to spread myself around you furiously, hold alone but everything spills to overflow.

Once you looked at me and said, “I can’t believe you.”

I flexed light around my palm, sealed my lips. ———-

 

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