I want to feel you
and it makes me furious that I can’t.
Like fists in red clay
like blood under my nails from clawing at the dirt
where you swore something real lived.
Your name rattles my skull
like cicadas screaming themselves to death,
won’t shut up, won’t let me rest,
won’t let me be anything but feral with wanting.
I never begged for touch.
Never burned for another body.
Never stood barefoot in the dark
aching to be held like it might save me
until you taught me how.
Now every desire feels like a sin
I’m the only one punished for.
I reach through the heat,
through broken screen doors and splintered promises,
and all I ever grab is air.
You come to me sweet in dreams,
soft voiced liar,
and vanish by morning
like you didn’t hollow me out
and leave me breathing anyway.
I’m still here
angry, kneeling in the dust,
heart pounding like a church bell
ringing for someone who will never answer.
You broke me and walked away clean.
Left my heart to rot in shallow ground,
fed it to crows and kudzu
and called it peace.
when does the ghost you made of me stop screaming?
When do I stop wanting to feel someone
who never wanted to stay?