I want to live inside your nectar,
I want to be the life you need.
My teeth ache, forbidden in my mouth,
Knowingly silenced by the conscious manners of my tongue.
I can only speak words through my eyes,
As they flicker uncontrollably back and forth at the movement of your hands.
I know I am selfish and wretched,
Only true to my pen and paper.
So I grasp them in my claws as I drift away,
And welcome you in.
You were my dream.
Threaded in milk bedsheets, you pieced yourself next to me.
I saw us outlined in the mirror.
You were the same as before. Nineteen and hunched over, hair creeping through your cap.
Orange filtered through and rested upon you, your eyelids fluttering like light from the window shades.
You couldn't stop moving. Your body was speaking through paint,
A vessel for your visions.
The colors were viscous, molding with your fingers. You were vacillating back and forth, lucid even within the confines of my dreams.
I watched you from the pillows, my parts scattered on the floor like a child. My legs were flailing in the air, my head braced backwards to see you upside down.
You looked like gold.
Even after, I want to cry to you my acidulous tears,
Feed you the nectar to your ingenious.
I want you to paint who I’ve grown up to be,
Just so I can cradle the thought that we are part of one another.
I am avid for your distance,
As I only wish to drown in your lengths.
Yet your neglect makes me the strong pillar I am,
A solid woman of rock and cement.
And I know you do not need my legs to carry you,
But If you allow me,
I will give you myself in regiments,
Arms and legs in the first battalion,
Soul and eyes thereafter.
And if not,
I will simply monument you by pen and paper,
Continue to tower over dreams with the reality of my powerful nectar.