today, there is a pocket of air between our palms, cupped by our interlaced fingers. the gap is frosty and biting and ever-expanding, and its frozen source is your heart, steady pulse of icy cool radiating through blue slush blood, driving a hole in the middle of our skin. the only things holding your lifeless, drooping icicle fingers are my own fleshy ones, bruised lavender, gripping them like trying to catch water.
tonight, heat blooms across my body from friction of your palms against skin. our hands shuffle and scrape up and down, side to side, sweat aquaplaning underneath as we skid across steaming earth, fingers swirl and whirl round the whorl of ears and the knurl of navels, curling into tight fists that tug and pull and pressurise- everything our hands touch, we touch with certainty that the surface in contact will warm and blush and bloom into blood-red roses, petal skin unfurling more for us to hold on to; our chests are magnetised, our hearts planetary cores- oppository in charge- and we spin and tumble in moon-asteroid orbit, dodging broken satellites and space waste, hands ploughing down to dig earth in earnest fistfuls, not a mite could fit through any cell of space we've left between us. here we dance and turn, faster and faster and faster, and red-hot iron magma erupts from our volcanoes, drizzling down as simmering hailstones, the pebbles crashlanding around our dying star-bodies. our glow turns to an amber glimmer as we lie in space, drifting, drifting, hands pulling apart.
tomorrow, hands are coloured a cold, cold blue again to complement the rising yolky sun, inches apart without a finger of warmth.
YOU ARE READING
heartburn expulsion
Poetryan ongoing collection of the love poems of nobodi. the full anthology of nobodi's poetry, "i'll never be a poet", can be found on wattpad as well.
