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apodyopsis.

the first time you did that to me

we were

unripe lovers who knew everything about love

but nothing of how to feel it

two bodies sucked into a black hole

that cracked open nicotine shadows

in the far pristine wall of the most forbidden of sections

it was the death of night. it was the birth of dawn.

it was the end of sunsets. it was the start of quietus.

your hamartia becoming my latria

pearl oyster skin around ivory-colored teeth

the taste of each other trapped between bloodless lips

(are the flames of hell warmer

than the cold between our chests?

or even colder?)


iridaceae flowers blooming in erubescent cheeks

fingers scraping down the spine of a battered book

let me tell you a story, you said,

the tragedy of a summer-scented girl born on the winter change

and dead by the time autumn finally came

the tragedy of a boy born with teeth in his heart

and claws in his hands to gnaw at the stars

(tell me, did God make the sky so you could tear it apart?)


apodyopsis.

you said it was your favorite word

you said the universe was born under my fingertips

and that the black hole between us could give birth to a star

or maybe you didn't say it, maybe it was just

how your hands on my neck made me feel

paraffin eyes lightning red candles in mine

droplets of melted kerosene setting arctic skins on fire

spring arriving earlier to spines made of wood and saffron

you brought war to my door with

bites of sanguinary teeth on gullible lips

you planted vermilion roses on my tongue and left me to bleed

roots of steel and bone growing down to my lungs

so I could not breathe

as you drank down the words of a book

you weren't supposed to be reading

as you drank down the life of a person

who wasn't supposed to be living

(will my heart still pump in your hands

after you rip it from me?)


apodyopsis.

the act of mentally undressing someone.

that's what you did to me, tom,

in that secluded corner of the forbidden section.

in that camera obscura you keep my heart in,

your eyes didn't just undress my body

until I was as naked to you as David to Michelangelo,

as human to you as heaven to the angels,

but everything in it,

every strained blood vessel and every exploding cell

until they were no longer mine but yours

carried from me to you in Hermes' caduceus

the only version of the staff where the intertwined snakes

aren't hissing, but kissing

you undressed me whole and not satisfied with my body

you sneaked into my brain, lured

in the dustiest alcoves of it

places I had never been before but to which I followed you

until my mind was no longer my cradle but your castle

the soft pulse on my neck no longer my crib but your crypt

and every hollow in my body not a sanctum

but a thousand dungeons

my skin bears your marks but it's my soul who's weeping

omnipresent bruises placed over shedded scars

slender nacre fingers soaring over a skein heart

so what did the boy do, I asked,

he (you) yanked it out

so forcefully all the blood came out at once

so forcefully the last beats happened at his (your) hands

glinting shards of shattered ribs

turned glass at their (our) feet

(what did you want my heart for, tom?)


to put it in yours in hopes you'd fill

the blank space you were born with

that blackened chasm in your chest

you've never been able to fill

but it doesn't fit and it never will

no heart ever will

not even your own

still, you shove my heart inside your ribcage

(will you shrink it?, I beg, 

until it's no bigger than a pomegranate seed?)


apodyopsis.

with crystalline hands whose skin is flesh and blood from others

you grasp my soul and twist it so beautifully

it can never be put back into the same shape

do this until it is but a nude carcass of what it used to be

a gelid diamond reverting to stone

(when will it stop? when does she die?)


apodyopsis.

you did all of that purely with your eyes, tom

and I want you

to kill the distance between us

and do all of that with your hands this time.

(but you won't–

for you mock the cowards because you're their king)


I promise you can bleed too –

I promise I can make colored stained glass out of your ribcage

I promise I can taint my teeth with the ripest of cherries

I promise I can seize your pulse in my hands

and crush it until it finally grows talons and begs me to bury it

(tom, who are you if not my warped pieces?)


apodyopsis.

the last time you did that to me

we were

loveless strangers

two different shadows twirling in the half-light

wax dripping from cold candle-like fingers

and red-stained teeth wiped by tongues of rouged murder

(why touch me so softly? why kiss me so roughly?)


snatch my teeth away, I'll bite you with my tongue

stain your hands with my blood so it can grow fangs

and draw a map of burrowed trenches on your skin

so when thorns thrive on it you will remember your sin

(because the girl has to die and the boy must be the one killing her)


apodyopsis.

remember when I asked you what it meant

and you said

it's what I'm doing to you now

well, tom, I'm doing it to you now

but guess what you can't learn

in the forbidden books of the restricted section

there isn't much to undress

in a rotten corpse

though there is much to see

in a sky of unborn stars and clouds tainted with blood loss

(and the girl died.

and the boy existed miserably ever after

and every winter he'd put summer-scented flowers on her grave

wilted irises that bloomed even when spring never came)

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