I want to love in a way that transcends
5 a.m. guilt. Whirs past rambunctious nights,
and doesn’t lean on broken hearts for
resurrection from dead hopes. That
chooses to keep open the lines
between what was and what might be.
I want to love savagely and devoid of damage-
Recognizing the inability of our tied fates to
Function without them suffocating one another
To pieces; succumbing to gory sores of
Lovers incapable of stitching us up.
Cold you love me the way thirst yearns water? A
Fresh touch to the senses that do not need
To leave a sigh, a sound, a touch, a look, a scent
To prove its real.
Could you love me, knowing I’m a masochist
For the type of love you give?