(no subject)

[pufferfishkisses]

when i was a kid

and things got too loud
and people got too close

my heart overwhelmed the rest of me
ached and swelled like a cathedral
at the close of church service.

i'd sit behind the willow tree
and wait to be searched for.
how many years did i choke on my heartbeat
waiting for the words where were you,
i missed you, why don't you
come play.

on my bad days, i am still like that.
my vocal cords harden to willow.
the sharp syllable of your mouth
like the whip of branch against bare legs.

on my bad nights, i press ice to my sternum
to cool the swelling underneath.
my heart speaks in lines of longing,
muscle-damp and pulsing-thick.

i never wanted to stuff so many secrets
into my ribcage. i'd crack it open if i could

and the thing about willows of course
is that they never stop weeping.

better to burn the whole thing down
and stand illuminated in the blaze,

the shape of you imprinted
in the places i stare at the flames too long.