little boy, little boy. what have they done to your eyes? they have smeared celestial paste on your lids, glued shut, you see stars swimming in a deep, deep blue milk. your lips are black with nightshade, the berry they squeezed and titrated on your tongue, bitter and thick and cold down your throat but fiery with smoke when you coughed up what they fed you, and laughed a cruel laugh little boys did not know.
once upon a time, they decreed pink for you and blue for me. since then, they've changed the hue: blue blushed into pink and i think this was their version of an apology, an emancipation from responsibility, an emboldenment of the little people they tried to cut up into squares and boxes and colours and shades. but their pointed fingers and words lifted from their lips hold so much authority that the golden sun shivered and recoiled its waves to let vast, ghastly night bloom across our eyes.
every day i look at the bruises painted on your eyes and lips and vow to melt them away with kisses and love. i pluck and peel at the aubergine skin, through layers and layers of galaxial slime, space debris i scrape off the surface of your moony face so i can see the white beneath, the white i see in the movies with my pink eyes. link tongues, mould and shape yours to speak honey and cherry blossoms instead of bitter black urchinous sparks. every day i vow to sculpt you, press and pinch you into the original blueprint of manhood.
wet clay slips through my fingers all the time.
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.
