I don’t want to be swept off my feet. My god, I want someone to collide with me. I want to be knocked off my feet, to be under their weight and be engulfed by everything they are. I want to be look up into their eyes that make the sky its greatest enemy, rivalling its beauty. I want the breath to leave my lungs in the most suffocating way and when I breathe it back in my skin burns and flowers are sprouting in my collarbones with life that’s never been there. I want to be held so tightly that I can no longer tell where they start and I begin. I want lips to wonder over my neck with no real purpose. I want laughter to be the loudest echo ever heard, I want it to reach the rays of the sun and fill a warmth in my heart I didn’t know existed. I want hands to draw patterns into my skin with an ink only I can see. Let the world watch on as I become a poet with no purpose and 1001 feelings.
— Apryl Williams, (Flowers in my collarbones.)