seaside dreaming

i really like this one, it’s probably the most personal poem i’ve ever written :””)

there is a girl and i am kissing her before the closed door to my family home and the peephole is dark with a pupil. my mouth gapes open like in death so she puts her tongue in it, the hook in fish-mouth. her hands slip beneath my shirt, the butcher’s knife, and she peels away the bones of my spine until i am nothing but sea foam in her palms. the cavern of her mouth, wide as a maw of a lonely whale, swallows me whole. when my mother opens the door she sees only the sea witch. 

inspired by van gogh's wheatfield with crows

i understand it now — disembodiment. it is not about absence, about the loss of meaning or the gush of blood. i see disembodiment and it is the way i no longer love you; i cannot be kept the same way that fog cannot be caught, the same way that sunlight fills the sky, limitless. i am the ocean, always in motion, slipping through cupped palms.