Small Punctures
I want someone to hold me
and mean it
When my chest
burns, I rewind
a summer
scratched vinyl
and voice
coughed up love
rasped longing
When I was sixteen
I promised
I would not die alone
I sift through
a conversation
in July
a story
unfinished
two questions
laid out to dry
I offer
a lung and laughter
tell you I don’t mind
I do not tell you
what I do not feel
that your hands have crept up
a foreign body
that you cannot consent
for a stranger
I tell you to go harder
I let you kiss me
and pretend to smile
you cannot see me
but I am smiling
You tell me I laugh too much
but do not hear
how it echoes
seduced
spat out
I say I am not in love
but pray to a woman
I show her
the crumpled pages
and bodies bent
over bathroom sinks
I promise to forgive
an old friend
in the morning
I want to burn
insulation
tissue
muscle
to unlearn love
relearn healing
to not look away
I want to relearn
left shoulder
right cheek
planes of violence
you lick
lidocaine
into her bruises
and I forget
for a moment
to feel
forget
I am the woman
lying with you
You say
it is too easy
to speak
so I offer
silence
hold you
in a past life
tell you
nothing
will ever
be okay
I let you
consume me
light my skin
pretend
it is not mine
when it burns
By Flora Ranis.
