God I wished you’d scratch my eyes out in the most intimate way, so my sight would be the sound of your voice. And I wished you’d hold my hands so tight that my wrists fell onto the carpet, so I would never have to get up off the floor again. And I thought of you seeping through my skin, swelling each organ and clotting the blood in my veins. And I’d have liked to swallow at least my corneas, so I could’ve looked the virus eating me alive in the eyes.
I imagined us king and queen, stumbling drunk down a stone hallway, waltzing on the arm of the rising sun and deciding to love each other again.
PLUTO BLOOMING 