If I could hold onto you with everything and nothing all at once,
My hands being little tree roots touching everything but you;
do you think that I will ever be able to let you go afterwards?
Because there is so much honour in trying and trying and trying
until every wall leans slightly to the left. In kissing you again
and again and again because I couldn’t quite get it perfect the first time.
In loving you time after time after time like the first
outwardly beautiful intrusive thought I’ve ever had.
Yet I still spend my days insisting that I was everything and absolutely
nothing close enough to be worthy
for you, to hold me between the space of your skin cells.
That my name was warm enough to hold your hand in winter. With lips like
Rose petals drenched on a bedsheet like a shoreline.
And I know there is nothing, and everything to admire all at once.
I have never been one to cherish remembering.
My heart a wooden ship and my rib cage the bottle we ram it in
like a word
never meant to be said.
Like a dream…. Never meant for the human ears to hear.
And like you, I beckon.
Until I am nothing, yet everything you could want me
to be. And please don’t tell me that that is
That this poem, right here, is all of me
that anyone can translate into flesh.
And oh what will they say, when they find nothing,
and not realize that it is everything…
just said all at the same time?