#f6lth

Do you pick at loose threads of memories of me and reminisce?

Do you look back and pine at what could’ve been? Do you taste me inbetween those you kiss?

Because there you are- existing - woven into my long thick yarn of you memories and recollections

There you are- appearing -no matter how far, no matter how much, no matter how hard I try

You exist. You thrive.

I just hope you recognize me now in this new life

Your new life

your fingers don’t have to mark every mile of my skin, to call me yours. my lips don’t have to taste every inch of your being, to call you mine.

and yet, i wouldn’t want to see blueberry nectar dripping from anybody else’s mouth but yours. wouldn’t want to close my eyes and jump off of anybody else’s fingertips.

you know, someone told me that i tasted better than his last. “i“ he said, “have never liked the taste of blueberries, but yours has a familiar sting”

which made me think… who was your last? what does she taste like? do you still have blueberry dripping from your nectar mouth? does she?

darling, what does it feel like to rest in the light of her temples? or feel her chest pressing against yours? darling… can i still call you that?

you see.. i’ve never liked the taste of blueberries either. but i still got accustomed to your sting.

that fetishizes the feeling of prudish innocence.

innocent white, virgin pure.

how dare you label spoiled goods

how dare you label whore

.

this is not a market!

i am not an object,

nor am i “goods”.

i do not need your similes and metaphors.

.

do not display me,

(unused,

right off the shelf to abuse)

compare me.

.

you do not get to pick and choose,

how dare you...

words are meaningless now

a bulletless gun

you and i we speak a different language

unknown to others

spoken by the tongues of none.

5th september, 2018 // sh

breathe in this sweat

watch it drip and drop

(this is not this, this is not that)

this is no ordinary fuck

/

it’s just you and i

and you and me

sway to the rhythm of we

/

watch my teeth

and how they sink (into my lips)

my eyes and their whites

and the way that i kiss

/

your new favorite color

is now on my cheeks

the sun is shy

but i promise

it’ll soon want a peek...

4th september, 2018 // sh

your fingers

don’t have to mark every mile of my skin, to call me yours.

my lips

don’t have to taste every inch of your being, to call you mine.

/

and yet,

i wouldn’t want to see blueberry nectar dripping from anybody else’s mouth but yours.

wouldn’t want to close my eyes and jump off of anybody else’s fingertips.

/

you know,

someone once told me that i taste better than his last. “i“ he said, “have never liked the taste of blueberries, but yours has a familiar sting”

/

which made me think...

who was your last? what does she taste like?

do you still have blueberry dripping from your nectar mouth? does she?

/

darling,

what does it feel like to rest in the light of her temples? or feel her chest pressing against yours?

darling... can i still call you that?

/

you see..

i’ve never liked the taste of blueberries either.

but i still got accustomed to your sting.

(but not the

i saw you once in a dream kind,

not the

it was love at first sight)

/

i want us to delve and dive in each other,

melt and pour over one another.

/

i want you to squeeze me-

squeeze me until I cant tell the difference between

numbness

and death

/

(i know,

i know i fall in love too easily)

but i want nothing about this to be easy.

/

sprinkle your devotion on top of the

numbness-

numbness or death, whichever

/

spill your passion.

let it seep into the cracks,

let it find its way through your fingertips

(onto my lifeless limbs)

/

i want you to love me.

(not the

I saw lovers on the train

and wrote this poem for you kind)

/

i want you to love me.

(i dare you.)

16th september, 2018 // sh