Keloids.

You are the grimy pavements of Venice,
a city I would never retreat to if my heart
was aching for a new home.
I have only felt cramped here, in tight alleyways
where there are stray shoulders and doorbells
waiting to be toyed with.

(I don't know what I'm doing here).

Your arms are agitated waters
and your mind is a gondola I am in no
position to lead.
I swear I am not a tourist-
I am not here to swim across your canals and
photograph each tidal wave.

This city has had a history of sophisticated decay,
each year drawing more moths in,
but Vogue cannot save us, nor bell towers, nor
a nightlife of fireballs;
we feel too unsafe when we are this alive.

I can't prevent myself from shaking because
you and I may be more alike than we care to admit...
we are oceans away from our birthplace,
rifting between cellos and Italian architecture
yet we know nothing of how to hold on,
how to be a surface that doesn't split.

And I am only praying I meet you, for the first
time, when winter has me on my knees
so you recognize this soul...
and I am not taken as a myth of
clearer, summer days.

-

Written 1/03/14 @ 1:00 AM

Wrote this while listening to a cover of Sia's "Breathe Me" which is a beautiful, emotional song. Also, incorporated Venice into this because I have traveled there a few years ago, was one of the last places our group visited in Italy.