I want to live beneath your skin,
to feel each day your shivers run -
the tremor, laughter, rage within.
I want to weave into your bones,
so you won’t know where you end,
and where my claws have grown.
Or be a drop of water,
trickling down your thighs,
I want to be your home, your anchor,
where all else would fear, but you safe lie.
Your old, faithful, hulking dog,
watching over every night,
warding storms both great and small,
biting at hands and faces tight,
then guilty laying my bloodied snout
across your knees, the storm put out.
I want to be your favorite lines
from your most hated book,
to hold a corner of your heart,
and make you flinch when you look.
I want to be your favorite song,
on endless, looping repeat,
so much that chords and notes spill out,
yet your hand presses play again, complete.
I hate mathematics,
but I, like a mad scientist,
try to solve you like an equation,
to calculate each variable -
and finally understand
that while we fuck like maniacs,
in your hands I feel
that I
actually
matter.










