The million strands of a dandelion
Maybe it’s the way you say my name.
I walk behind you, my breath falling faintly on my silver skies. Your skin felt as though it was woven with such careful detail by the sunken spiders. They would have probably crawled out while your mother lay unconscious and woven you with such care, this soft body of yours love. How much of you do I get to take? Should I spare any bits, this anxious desperation you’re making me feel, everything akin to the molten memories.
I know, I might be a little eccentric when it comes to you, and say this out loud probably a hundred thousand times.
But why is it that I get so wasted in love.
My flowers dried up last time I took them out in the sun. Someone else came, held my hand and took me away. Is this what I do? Let my head float beneath the warm red skies as I wait another chaos for me to come across? I listed, several times, don’t take me in. I find it difficult to stay calm inside your home, I’ll fall apart. I always have. What’s left of me too shall crumble now, your love is too complete for me to make it a lesser whole.
I feel like a little girl in her 80s, dreaming about all the happy things in life. Ask me to leave. Let go of all the good to be bad things, love. They don’t matter anymore. A vermillion color on my skin, a red fabric hanging down my chest, and a beaded neckpiece tied around my neck, spare me from the ordinance of having to be somebody’s everything. Spare me from being anybody’s but yours. Can I ever be yours?
I begged for you to stay, I squeezed my emotions into a tear drop.
Mind you, it was just a tear drop. Is this a letter, love? If it is, would I still be your option? If not at least a choice, can I just be an option? Shrink me into a box, and tick me never. I’ll be patient this time. For aren’t we fools to be doing it this way? What do I call you, I can’t complain, I deserve this. I won’t lie, love, I keep thinking of you as though my mind can’t bare to stand any other thought. You probably think I’m too intense. I might be though. Or I have finally lost my mind. It was bound to happen one day or another, love.
Push me against the wall, take everything but my clothes off me, strip my mind, and take all what it is that you want and need. I still will have more left for you to come back to me. I’m not crazy maybe, not yet at least. Or I haven’t started showing yet. Nobody’s taken my name the way you say it, my soul gets snapped out of my body.
I see a sort of forever in your eyes, except that it won’t be for me to devour.