may i?
i’m slowly pulling out my internal organs
and placing them each on pieces of paper
handing them to various strangers
praying that they don’t get torn apart
you have my liver, or small intestine, or lung
but I keep my heart
i won’t let it get lost in the intermingling
i’m brushing my hair with my fingertips
they’re getting caught up in a rush of curls
they wave through me like my emotions
and hang heavily against my neck
i want to kiss the top of your neck
the back of your head where your hair hits
do you know do I belong to me?
i’m writing poetry that falls down paper
like the tears down my face
and the words are just mistakes in ink
pen is finite, pencil is infinite
i like being lost in your erasable dreams
please, do not sketch me out and erase me
build me up gently and break me down slowly.
it should not be like a mallet to stone.
but this time it might be.
may I ask you a question?
which way is north?