Featherweight Locks
What was I to do? My plug couldn’t fit us both.
And it kills me to think it fit you when I can barely hold my own.
But as you pulled my chain, the liquid began to drain so I pulled back,
preventing a full collapse.
It hurt, I know. Those empty eyes,
torn heart with past rips you’ve tried so hard to close,
and f..ck, I was the next knife.
But nothing, not even water, is as good a conductor
as the space between our faces before they connect with a seismic impact.
The distance, which is enough to hold an ocean filled with the souls
of every homesick lover that there floats,
be it only a moment or the way our spirits softly sail amidst
through the ever closing gate of our lips
and thus began their dark journey, despite the sea.
I don’t know how it is that our breath can be our lighthouse,
somehow signaling through the mist and locking our lips.
Perfect, fitting, fleeting, such is that the magnet in my forehead moves to yours,
dipping my head like a crane to stream, flicking out eyes,
finishing the circuit and new blue sparks of electric electricity roll me you you me;
nothing not even water is as good a conductor.
But it’s so hard to turn your already tattered key
in a rusted jagged lock you can’t force it, it’ll break.
Just whisper soft through the keyhole words of truth
from the soul blanketed by sheets in the summers soggy heat.
