My
skin speaks
to
yours as you first brush
against
it, initial strokes
that
turn to motions
of a
knife, testing.
I
notice how firmly
you
grip it, not cautiously
but
ready to sever, to end
the
dangerous experiment.
Feel
how my veins
seem
to work faster
now,
before you
take
apart, peel away
the
ribs hiding a heart.
Do
you know that only you
can
see it moving,
watch
it quicken,
blood pumping,
rushing through me?
I
know the fear
heard
only in your exhalations.
I
see how it keeps to your shadows, but
out
of sight is not
out
of touch.
This
is too much,
too
painful,
but
you are compelled.
I
know because
I am
human, too.
Look
past my eyes
—no,
deeper—
where
a lifetime lives in a maze,
and
sparks erupt as you
run
along narrow paths, kindling
fires
with soft footsteps,
lights glowing
as you
touch
them like a moth, curious,
and like
a moth
you
came in darkness.