i know that i only have icicles on my tongue–
slipped, jumbled, but sharp–
because behind my eyes is the shepherd
wanting to be led home by the sheep,
oh, backwards world,
i don’t understand anything.
i’m so mad at you, T., but also so enamored. by your gypsy tongue, lanky limbs, freckled eyes–
the way your words snake around me like i want your arms to,
your steps forwards and then back,
i can’t read your movements the way i can with others, where are you, where are we?
i just want it to stop. my brows are set eternally low–
i keep waiting for something to feel right,
but i don’t know where it is, what it is,
& i’m tired of sitting on my hands
my mouth is full of memories, teeth built of jumbled ice,
it bothers me most not knowing if you’re aware of it, of us. of you & me. of what you do to me.
it makes my nails want to live in my eyes.