sjsprWriting

“Drink with me,” you whispered and I let myself go, drifting into your every pore, desirous to be let in.

Every droplet of air that defied my gravity carried one fragment of my existence, crashing like icebergs against the bounding main and its swell of breath.

Here I am, ignoring the fire that grows irrationally within my center, anxious for another taste of your embittered cure. The essence of your workings push against my every barrier, tearing apart the bark of my delicate throat.

My lungs, brimming with your essentia, turn to stone and crumble for you.

My languid body has been filled with you ever since the sinful day of my nativity because I was forethought for you.

Because I belong to you.

I belong to you the way puddles belong to heavy rain, creating welts in the earth over several millennia.

I belong to you the way the soft glow of a lamp belongs to a woman’s flesh, gathering deep exhales from her lover, igniting his lush carnality.

I belong to you the way freedom belongs to war, pushing to find a harmony. Finding combat instead. Massacred by the anarchistic desire to exist.

I belong to you the way sinking bare feet belong to warm sand, disguising the scars on my worn soles.

I belong to you the way fire belongs to light, surviving only as long as illumination allows it, maturing into barren ashes as the time passes.

I belong to you the way life belongs to death, where, only for a moment, I matter; and then I am entombed into you once more. Alone.

And you claim me.

Smothering every last morsel of my frivolous reality. I embrace you, surrendering farther into the depths of your profundity. Hoping you’ll devour me, so that I may pretend you treasure me.

Let me tuck my endurance into the crevices of your bones and pretend I am the only one to expire in your sanguine fluid.

Because I belong to you.

The way a miserable person belongs to the bottom of ocean.