you and I swim in a dark river
we are stuck treading against a
brick current, but we don’t care to move
your fingers, my mouth,
your tender lips and magnetic skin
those observant eyes trying to
capture the deeper ocean 

I know, you know, we’re drowning
we can’t breathe, and our lives
are breaking; however, there’s a moment
a time, a small one under the water
where I find air. I find life in the darkness
with you, under our entangled bodies
in your white cavern
I see the light; I feel
the haven of danger
you and me crying
dying and being pleased with none other
than the gift of need 

swim to the surface, find real air
but this pain, this confusion and trauma
is where I can see. Your touch is
clear, transparent, mine
I know one of us will be wise
but maybe, no
not maybe, no such thing, sadly
we’re stubborn, enriched
in delectable chaos
and pity 

don’t tell me to forget
don’t tell me to move on
I will, but not because of you
your words don’t help
the more I see, the more I want
don’t
don’t, please be mine, but you can’t
I’ll let the water go up my
nostrils
I’ll feast on your fingers
once more and die
peacefully in pain and guilt.