Don't Kiss Me
Don't kiss me-
There's still blood in my mouth from the last battle.
You know, I've never actually left that field. A part
of me is still lying there in the mud, entangled
with the other bodies of lost love.
There's a bullet wound in my chest that will never
fully heal, no matter how effective the medicine
of your lips may be. You'll find scars in the lining of
my soul and come to know their venom;
You'll turn and run without a second glance.
Don't kiss me-
My burdens are too heavy to be taken on by another.
Men have tried to drag my body from the wasteland
but they've all given up sooner or later.
No one has learned yet to kiss the corpse and
dig a grave; leave the dead be.
That piece of me is gone forever, and no amount
of prayers or love letters will change the past.
I'm too raw, too real, to give you what you need-
I could write a book on the hitch of your breath alone,
Reading the words aloud as you cover your ears.
Don't kiss me-
I've just learned how to breathe again.
You're so cruel to look at me that way; surely
you must know what you do to me.
I could write sonnets about the color of your eyes,
Make a martini of broken glass and constellations
and drink it down until you're stepping onto Jupiter and
waving at me from across the solar system.
Don't kiss me-
Instead, I'll fill the paper with the print of my lipstick
and send it in a bottle out to sea.
Let the ocean swallow my romantic delusions-
Poseidon himself warns against leaving my coffin
for the warmth of your arms.
Don't kiss me-
I'm falling faster than Alice down the rabbit hole,
but the landing will be so much harder than anyone could know.
Don't kiss me-
I only have so much fight left before my resolve crumbles.
Don't kiss me-
My head spins when you walk into the room.
Don't kiss me-
I've never experienced anything quite like this.
Don't kiss me-
Or better yet...
do.