Have you ever calculated the difference in pressure from when I lay in your bed to when you are alone? Do you imagine the difference between her body mass and mine? I think you do, knowing that I am weighed down by much heavier things, a world inside me a tide in my soles and a forrest to hide my beating heart. Her body is like butterflies and rose petals singing to the sunshine when it comes out, and never shying away from a summer breeze.
My eyes look at you with stony pupils and cloudy iris’ while hers, dance like crystals and dew drops, with a voice to match a songbirds melody, while mine sinks, grazing even the deepest of ocean beds and only digging deeper everyday.
Calloused body and calloused soul I struggle to keep my old skin, rather than shed it, hold on to every part of myself that I’ve ever known, keep track of every fingerprint that has ever made a burning impression. Freshly hatched from her chrysalis I am no comparison to butterfly wings and flaxen skin there is no comparison, for everything that she is there are sixteen things I am not.
The next time I see you I’m going to ask you to touch me harder, and remind me why I keep this old skin, riddled with hand prints of those who’ve left and scrawled memos from lovers on the bottoms of my wrists reminding me, “please never again.” I will kiss you until I feel my shoreline break, until the word inside of me has found you. A god among those who cannot see anything else, and I will whisper you every part of me that pales to hers, only to hope you learn to lie through your teeth.