I am sure that you are made of
Flesh and bones and muscles and sinew
Not rose gold or starlight or the fuse of a candle
Yet sometimes you glow as if you are

When I kiss you, something explodes
It’s as if the truant teenagers next door
Have decided to reside in my brain
And throw firecrackers at my synapses
And I end up weeping from the pain and the brightness

I am sure that you are also cruel sometimes
You can only be so much of a dream
Here you exist in the drains of human flaws
And I find pride, condescension, regret
There are things about you that are rotting like the gutter
No one writes poetry about that; they only care
About the glowing and the beauty and the soft nothings
You smell sometimes, to be sure

I am sure that when you and I see each other
There will be a stare and a touch and a breath
Maybe all of my aching hollowness can be filled
But more likely, you’ll add to it
There will be a you-shaped gap that’s left next to
Everything and everyone who abandoned me
It’s harder to fill a hole that keeps getting bigger
And so I wish you’d stay away to keep that hole small