my tattoos don't mean anything and i don't want to talk about them. silence at the gallery. those audio tour headsets are museums of dirty earwax, anyway.
i want your tongue under mine. but that's not how this works, and you have to be symbolistic to me – like orpheus i struggle to stay looking ahead, thinking myself a patient girl but temptation is a sweet pain. i want you to break me open like an oyster, let the saltwater drip down your bottom lip. lap me up like waves. i'm nauseous from the tide shift. i want to tongue cherry stems and bite my teeth down on icy glass. i want to tear down your reasons. i don't need you because i have god but i want you in ways that would make god blush. there are no questions to ask the oracle and my intuition knows so much more. my body doesn't listen, it only learns. my body will never question you but it doesn't know the answer. my body hasn't caught up yet – it sees you in liminal space, maybe wanting you not right now, not quite like this, but wanting to taste your skin nonetheless.