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10
The pulse that insists
<p>I wake with you already in my mouth,</p><p>your name is a copper coin pressed beneath my tongue. Morning does not arrive clean.</p><p>It leaks in, brown as bruised fruit,</p><p>brown as the inside of earth split open.</p><p>You have stained the sky with your preference. It has surrendered itself to the brown that claims your skin</p><p><br/></p><p>I try to amputate you the way surgeons cut rot, but the blade turns in my hand.</p><p>You are not a limb I can sever.</p><p>You are marrow. You are the pulse that insists.</p><p>How does a man erase himself without vanishing?, You are me. How does he unlearn the language his body speaks in your name?</p><p><br/></p><p>You are not a part of me, but the whole,</p><p>Engraved within my veins and bones.</p><p>To banish you would be to un-soul the very flesh I call my <a class="tc-blue" href="https://own.You" rel="noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">own.You </a> told me my eyes were poetry, that my voice carried warmth,</p><p>that my scent made the air kinder. So I guard these gifts now. I do not squander my words,</p><p>for they once rose like praise in your presence.</p><p>I anoint myself in the fragrance you adored,</p><p>hoping the wind might remember how you breathed me in and guide you home.</p><p><br/></p><p>February circles back like a vulture.</p><p>One year since you ignited me.</p><p>I, who never bent my knees to any god,</p><p>find the floor familiar now. I bargain with ceilings. I whisper to the indifferent sky.</p><p>If there is a power that hoards lost things,</p><p>let it return you to witness this altered body,</p><p>this new machinery.</p><p><br/></p>
6
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