I lied. I wanted you from that moment. I wanted you, wrapped in starlight and reflections, To be tied up with strings. And ropes. And chains. I wanted you hanging around my neck Like a charm I could press to my heart and Make three wishes on.
But I trapped the want And the words inside my mouth. I buried those secret things under my tongue, Biting down until blood and bitterness Filled my mouth And poured down the back of my throat.
In the beginning, you said, there was only water. But what about the end?
I closed my eyes and lay flat With my back to the ocean And my face to the sky. I lifted my hands and caught ribbons of wind Underneath my fingernails. I rode the water for so long, I forgot what my skin felt like when it was dry.
We said it from the beginning. No strings. No regrets. We lay, tangled in a web of sheets, Limbs and anemic light, And we passed promises back and forth like slippery stars. You told me you were recovering from A broken heart. I told you I was recovering from A broken life. Fair enough, we agreed and laughed.
We wrote stories on our bodies. Middles and endings Etched onto our feet and the palms of our hands. Our hopes were lettered in black and silver On a background of stark white flesh. We traded words on our tongues like tiny drops of melted sugar. In the beginning, you said, there was only water.
This is how you unraveled me. Thread by thread. Until I was bare, Wearing nothing but my skin And my bones And my blood.