untitled

as of yet

so we should make it simple, and remember green days when we didn’t try so hard to make it real.
so we should make it easy, and forget clean or hard sidewalks and nausea.
i’ll always remember the way you touched my neck or slid your fingers through my hair while i was cutting tomatoes and then (accidentally) my finger that one time in the country.
or even those many times in our city.
i won’t forget how i slipped inside your ribcage to hibernate for a weekend or a month –
it was warm and soft but i nearly died of suffocation.
i never met your mother but i saw her through your lungs after that one time
you swallowed her and her republican ideals and old brassy jewelry and blonde hairspray helmet hair.
i won’t forget your father trapped behind your liver
– it has since decayed; his arrival may or may not have expedited the process.
it’ll be hard to leave behind my memories.
for good luck and safe keeping i’ve pressed them to your heart.
i’m afraid they’ll fade with time because you’re almost too healthy,
but each time your waterfall blood runs over them i’ll just press again and again until you stop.