by Bet Yeldem
Assign a number to your soul.
I'll use it when I call you by names
you never chose.
You can use my fingernails
to rip your chest open to the sky
so clouds can hear your internal screams --
frustrated desires burning holes in your heart
and rainwater can fill your lungs
with golden dreams.
Your voice is purple.
It drips like blood from my feet. And my radio knows
the taste of your metal.
Your masochistic tendencies beg my bruises
to reside in your skin.
Take them; I'll leave black and blue kisses
as I eat the flesh from your bones
the way you want me to.
I'll violate your privacy with intimacy
and entertain myself with your appendages.
I think well be okay.
So, come in. Make yourself at home by the fire
in my palm.
You can introduce me to your shadow
and teach me who I was before I born.
Pour a drink of memories,
we'll be fools together apart, blame history,
and fall in love
with how easy it is to be temporarily free.
Posted on 10/05/2008
Copyright © 2024 Bet Yeldem