I think I’m okay

I think I know what I want or need
I think it will be enough
To be separated
That the time in between won’t matter
Or won’t hurt
But when I try to rest
To lay my body down and fill my lungs with air
I can’t breathe
So my heart is racing
And every part of my body is tingling
As i think of you
And yours
A body that looks comforting
I want to feel your skin
Your jaw
Your neck
Your collarbones
Your ribs
And crawl inside
To feel your heart beating
To penetrate you
And inject myself
Into your organs
Your arteries and veins
To take the air from your lungs
So I can breathe again
And then I’ll leave parts of myself
(Or maybe all of it)
I can be clean and good
And you will be dirty and broken
And I’ll have a dead father
An academic
Who lived a long life
And maybe
Loved his daughter
Or maybe he left her
Or he loved her siblings more
And then you’ll have a living father
A blue collar conservative
Who barely finished high school
And you’ll be his favorite
But you’ll pay for that with your body
And maybe then i won’t covet it anymore

Because i see you
And then I want to be tall and beautiful
Devoid of face paint
With bare fingernails
And naked earlobes
that I don’t need accoutrements to be okay
So I look at you
And of course I know if you’re wearing a dress
Or a skirt
Or pants
And if your hair looks different
Or your shoes are new
Or the clock is missing
And if I focus on that
Maybe I won’t think about
Your tits
Or your ass
Or the way my body yearns to touch
And be touched
Even though it’s rotting from the inside
And there you are
So alive
And i hate you for it
I hate your dead father
I hate my living father
I hate that you won’t take this from me
Or fill me up with something else
With yourself
With your own body
But you won’t
And you can’t
So I pull on strings
And pieces of paper
Gathering parts of you
And piecing them together
To build a warm nest
A space that is mine and yours
Even if the part made of you is coerced
Or stolen
Because I’m in love with the illusion
That I am somehow
Still close you
Even when you’re gone
And I hate myself for that


6 thoughts on “Covet

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