by ELYZABETH

I want to tell you about
the forest living inside of me,
the way the trees have your
name carved along the bark,
and the way there is a beehive sitting
in my skull.
I want to tell you about
the way my body buzzes
when you’re next to me.
I want to tell you that I am sorry.

I cannot be there to put you together
after you kiss storms that rip you apart
I want to be the river you chase,
but you are packing suitcases
and writing poetry about the floods
that the last girl left behind.
And after all the time you spent
with your head under water.

You probably think you need a drought, you don’t.
You need someone who kisses you the right way,
a drop of water that comes back to the shore.
Just to wash over your skin.
You are too busy,
running from the tide to see the waves that want to kiss you like an ambulance.
The way you have been dying
for a long time,
the waves that want to torment you
that you can finally be saved.