Apricots And Accidents Of Being Loved By Me

A Poem

Photo by Dainis Graveris on Unsplash

A future without anything new
hand-me-down skin
figure accidents happen
because to try means
accomplishing something
beside caution thrumming
a possible harmony
in the necessary wild
of terror, apricots
and accidents of loving me.

Thrum cautions whims
thought of nothing until now
how a world can be waiting
in your throat and all
you need to do is
open your mouth
to let it be born
again.

Universes seduce skin
better than I do
become an epiphany
an exclamation point
in a human
how we spin planets
around our orbits
and never know
our own gravity
until it pulls us
down like a lover
looking to have us
only to themselves.

I want to know love better
than anything else
to open the windows
of my chest
allow the wind of
unpredictability
to stir a tornado
inside me
to tear into
another body as if
it is food I’ve been
waiting my whole life
to be nourished by.

We are but necessities
that never knew
each other’s names
until a sunrise showed
up when your sunset
pulled me into
an existence
outside myself
and beyond.