You Poison Me

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1.1 | How does love sing of Spring in a cold keep?

Was this how it began? You saved me as I slept,
          as under huddled wings sparrows sleep,
          with the willows weeping for me

          by a river side of which I forget

leaving its edge, was it a dreaming ledge

          I walked over? The dirt was a surface beneath
the blanket you threw off me,

          with you I dare
to peep through the soil where winter entombed me.

You are engraved in the groove of my fingerprints.

          You opened up my skin, and let me in.

1.2 | I'm still made of the same stone

where I made myself a sacrificial table,
but it's now the place where I feast, with you

I don't remember how to cease,      and though I was breathing,
          why did I ever refuse to bring my life
          to dig at my deceiving lungs?

I was suffocating myself; now I'm living holding my breath,

          and I know that even your petty hates
          would keep me from going.         If you poison me
I'd die willingly; feed me your jealousy,

          and see how I'll grow in the green earth of its envy.

There is no wondering doubt of how you ever
became addictive. Your feelings
          are the additive to my being; I could hate you and still
          it couldn't sever this life

that came to life with you.

1.3 | Do you see how you're every poetical
prefix and suffix to pair with my own?

Every syllable of every word swallowed down
a deep throat of musical consonance,
          sings of a connection of choice.

Try to silence my voice

          and I'll give you my last breath;

take it and bring me senseless
death on a highway of self

          when you take me,
                low
                    deep
                              in the deepest impropriety;
          where you found me
                    where you leave me
                              breathless in your body
and out of mine
          still burning in me
                    when you fuck me
                              and our souls align;
can you see how you strengthen me?

          How you break and rest me to repair
the sinew to my muscle.

I walk on the very air
you push in me

I feel fucking undeflatable,

          your darkness brings my light.
          I'm blinded by only your sight.

2.1 | You made me see
how life is infinite unity, and futile finity,

full of the murderously temporary
beauty that places you into me,

made insane by the way we tame the moments
of uncertainty; fire eats fire to sire
           and breathe out the smoke of our souls

          that disappear into an aether of mystery,
and when you touch me, how our electricity

wrecks more than the bed frame where you

          mend me, and make work what doesn't fix me.

Just leave me on the periphery
of your existence; I'll wait at the doorstep of your mercy,
I want your hands alone to open to me, and only
          your breath in my body. You claim no ownership

          of what your touch created;
and I don't need to give back what is yours already

in a world where there is no he or I
but only you, just and divine;

and the only measurement of my time,

          a measureless stretch that flips back and forth
in a wordless expanse of nothingness;

          that stretches the day without any worth
without your hand deep in my earth.

2.2 | Come invade this land of mine;
let us share this fertile soil and bring
between every season

          of bodies in bloom,
the sweat of nature's intimacy.

Let's dirty our bed
          with fearless passion,

love will do the washing.

Nurture me in your shit.
I want your bruises as my tattoo;

          I'll take the hits

and be a wall to protect you.

You could beat me with a smack of mistrust,

          cage me in a lock of insecurity,

          secure me with a look
and the torture therapy of reverse psychology,

          I wouldn't even raise a hand in self-defence against you;
why would I want to stop you?

Just don't let anyone else bury me until you kill me.
          I want the shroud of your absence to lie with me
          in my final resting place, not the weakness
of a commonplace eulogy.

2.3 | I wouldn't ask your anger for redress.
          I'd miss your rough sensibilities,
and your unsentimental sentimentality.

You could rape me with your lust.

Strip me down to my distress.

Just don't leave me to rust
          in a pathetic rhyming scheme dressed

as poetry. I'll be the mirror

          that reflects you as you look into me,
and I'll be the true story
          of how to imagine ourselves more
without making each other less;

for love is a real man that brings you to your knees
          as it helps you stand; while hate?

          He's a young boy in a mess,
too afraid to excuse what love freely gives of itself;
and I freely give to you everything

before time must take its leaving.

I give you my hand with which to write my ending.

I don't want to die by God's hand.

I want to die by yours,

and if that isn't love
          then it's just the truth.

Published 26 May, 2026

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