shanxs

I learned geometry in his bedroom
feeling the strength in his hands around my ribcage as we became shapes together. my apologies to the animals
outside who surely thought I was in pain. I licked the sweat from his chest, so that’s what the future tastes like? we learned each other’s dance but
now I spin circles in front of him and
he looks at the ground. I think he forgot the formula. ninety degree angles in
one hundred degree heat. the length of the night
divided by the width of my hips
multiplied by the square root of how much his heart can hold. I crawled across his bed, he held the nape of my neck and we were one triangle
tessellating in ecstasy.
one self similar pattern, repeating,
repeating,
repeating.

Too quiet and can’t meet his eyes, mine will tell every secret. I’ll take any excuse to be wrapped up in the ninety-eight point six degrees of his flesh. Stomach tumbles, catching myself before I can say too much.

Tracing my fingers up his vertebrae, I consider his cerebellum and how I might climb into it. Even to hear an echo of his thoughts would be enough. In the blue-light glow of the room, I try to belong to him but with just my hips, it’s useless. The anatomy of a heart breaking, all cells shrivel in defeat.

I tap my collarbone; the hollow noise makes me feel empty inside. With a fixed gaze, I implore him to let his demons dance with mine: dive headfirst into hell together. My tongue won’t cooperate.

Each joint unhinges with his grip. Please call me a doctor. Or an exorcist.