seams and stitching ♡ published

SUN BLEACHED

there is something hauntingly gut wrenching about
what it takes for a human to want something.
the slender boy is running
straight into the ocean,
and you're sitting sand encrusted and restless watching
the strain of his back within his skin.

the slender boy is running straight into the ocean,
his movements extending gloriously from his skin,
he hits the water and he keeps running and keeps running
until you can no longer see his back,
you can only imagine there is still some air left in his lungs.

you did not imagine you would feel this way, stirring
in your fleshy confinements.

there's two of them now, sun
bleached and frolicking,
slight and overwhelming and
you have forgotten there was something here before. maybe she is
waving her hands in your face,
you are remembering
a time before these narrow strips
of joy you swallow whole.

she is beautiful, but you have forgotten, she bloated
like the ocean at high tide and
you cannot see beyond
the wideness of her hips. maybe
she will leave you, the
marks on her skin are larger than
those you could have left.
you ask her if there was someone else after you,
and she takes off her lips and
tosses them into the sea.

when you were younger you
used to bury yourself
to see if you had enough in you
to pull yourself back out.

you still cannot imagine
you would feel this way, your skin
is tearing as the stirring
intensifies and fleshy hands are
waving in your face,
sandy mouth and sun bleached
love, fading as the
tide pulls itself back in,
testing itself.

the slender boy is buried
beneath your feet in the sand.
you drop to your knees
and your hands are desperate,
scooping and scooping.
you cannot find the boy, but you uncover your wife.
when you see her, you bury her again. when she asks you
what you're doing, you tell her
she ought to thank you.
you're saving her.