love letters (nick)
mr. who woke my body
and loved how I mixed words,
dear sir who’s eyes are coveted
by mine,
who’s skin is hunted
by me.
for his eyes to be my eyes
his skin my skin
his endings my beginnings
and his bed to be my home
until it is consumed by fire.
I’ll move my belongings forever
from place to place,
dragging tears on lengths of tying twine,
and juggling piles of climaxes,
held wrists, and ‘come to me’s.
tiny suitcases that are hard to walk with,
stacked outside your door,
waiting for you to come home.