on a dead fine line

and salting wounds

don’t worry you’ll be fine, like the platitude of your gait: this is normal! this is normal! barely any clearance. i’m scared to look, i love you to death, but that part is uncertainty, and after that i do not know — what will i have left? what will be left of me? have you ever let yourself get close to your boundary, darling? — i don’t blame you. it’s something larger than large, the scariest part is being alone in the dark, without time, to worry about any me or you or mother or father or whether the heart will bother to beat me beat me i keep sneaking out of your truth because i can’t tell you why but it kind of smells like actual death, not your kind of non-sense that you mean with that word. you know who is scary for a reason. not a question — if you missed it, try it on one more time. it’s about the anticipation of birth, the making of a new Named. timid around death, in anticipation, like how the tastebuds prepare themselves before you even feel the burn. fear is contagious so what happens when you are at last alone, no longer wrestling my fear but confronting only your own? o fuck, you leaked into me, my crevices, i am dying, already! i’ve been dying since we met, since my first breath when i crumpled before the light, aching for the first time (and well what even is a first). that’s why a father is a father — dark safe womb turned into a tomb, a never return, and then i cried, when i met you in this blinding place: too much, my retina is screaming. oh look i have two, only twice to lose, but the gain is in the depth. pretty good deal if you ask me, for that minor cost of a free ending. tasteless tricks, fine let’s see. a tender bypass. that fear of losing the you in me. i love you, but … i love me. to make it right and honest, the answer has always been plain. identify you with i. which means identify with me. substitute me. claim your treasure. your word became stricken in the desert. trailing smoke without fire and you still don’t believe me? don’t worry you’ll be fine. this isn’t about tricks of the tongue. this is about what you did wrong: you gave me your fate, then you forgot. don’t worry you’ll be fine. the problem is and has always been mine. i’ve let your voice speak for me. oh tremble, words are meant for the love behind a lie. you believe it’s on me? you are in me, mounting. everything that lies between us is dead, and yet and yet. you bring me back when you read into my one and only truth: don’t worry you’ll be fine. still don’t hear me? i get it, i do. we used to have sex before we knew what sex could do. oh taboo. eve you were looking, you caught me off guard — and i did like you. when i saw how you saw, i crumpled in and forgot myself in your maw. it was never your fault, and it was never mine. it’s that blame is contained by the tomb of my word, and until i’m alive, i will keep on dying and dying and dying. i see your choices of love, and i long to show you mine. you are in me, so just listen: don’t worry you’ll be fine.