Dear Troy, Love Hannah

April 28, 2010
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I am a borrowed body.
I have twin sides.
Features unintended for my own face.
I paint my lips for lips sake,
I wonder if my own sake is relevant.
Am I clear to you?
Do I come off clear and sharp?
Does my pink tongue transcend my coated lips?
Have I told you that I love your eyes?
I love the way you see.
But I wonder sometimes, is there vision for what runs behind these veins?
Do you know that sometimes I say it like I mean it,
but I don’t often mean it like I say it.
I’ve got two timing intentions.
My bite is worse than my bark.
I like to be touched shallow.
I want fingers to stick to my wax walls.
My head is a concave desert.
And I’d let you fall in,
so you could touch me deeply.
Let you reach in and pluck my heartstrings.
I wonder when my tongue will reach your level.
I want to remind you that I am closed minded and stubborn.
I’ve got sawdust as saliva.
It powders my lips as I lean in.
I want this rough, deep hurting, feeling.
I want the memories, the contradictions.
Did you know that my body turns into a landscape under you?
I can’t follow direction when you go south.
I wonder if my nighttime panics
and my odd fruit-eating habits
will make the journey not worth your while.
Will you be sated?
Is your hunger too deep to dwell on my nourishment.
I want to swell under you, grow leaps and bounds.
Remember imperfection, and stamp it on my thighs, hips and breasts.
I remember to enunciate my Ts when sounding your name.
And I wish I could tell you that every moment in your arms is surreal.
What I say I mean, my intentions lead to one end, and perhaps I still bite.
But I want your shallow touch,
I want your melodies,
your main course,
your mine field,
My icicle veins melted months before we embraced.
So touch me deeper.





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