I write to you, you that owns
what I hold from prison.
And there are things
I can only say in my head.

How one night
I wrote your name on my red,
carved a picture from my head,
picture that held you in your whole
in your sweet perfumed smile, a flower
a bouquet of lustful desires.

How that night
I wrote your name on my palm
just to know how it felt
to have something be mine
in my hands
here in these hands
I kissed your name
took a flower from your right chin
carved a goddess from your left cheek
and I smiled.

Some nights my head wakes when thoughts ignite
– like the dress you wore –
black satin
acetate rayon
silk worm
black like the river falling from your scalp
– with or without the dimples –
I want.

Sometimes your voice plants in me a song
or rain drops that dampen your spot
lust erases into void and there are things
a lot of things
I want to say.

To sing your name when next we meet
to hold onto your hands
to back the world and allow your eyes swallow mine
As I stare longingly at you,
you stare back and I lose words.

I go back to my head
break a day a night
break your name a date
pick colour from the smile you hold
that there are days I want nothing but you
or your shadow to swallow mine
or just our hands to meet
or just you bump into me
or just these hands slip into each other like our eyes did
I write to you from the prison of myself,
it’s the only place I can love your name,
– your whole existence –
and there are things I can only say in this letter.

I have been collecting precious stones to spell your name
that there is ruby-stones in you
and I want the sun, the moon, the soil
to grow into your name.
I want to own you
– little by little –
not minding the face of the earth
not minding my name be put to dirt or to death
or to bury another name for us on earth
that I find peace in your song
that in between morning you’re an early bird
trustworthy of this soil.

There are things I can only say in my head
how when next we meet
I find these words as I stare into your eyes
let time excuse us just for a second.
I would just as I would
say these things in the blink of an eye
when God opens another day.
I will push my face into yours
where our hands might meet
a picture with just me and you, and finally
God opens the veil of your purple dress
and I ignite.





Photo by Matt Artz on Unsplash