I want to take you home with me
and teach you how to breathe in
sadness like this,
We can go away, inside and away,
and you can rip me open again
and again and again,
until the tide cracks
leaving us in the swell, kissing until
we stop breathing and we die,
your hands someplace foreign,
strange or perfect.
Our hearts will be popsicle sticks.
It won't make sense, and it won't be good
but it's because I don't know anything
but that I dig you and that
all I really want to do
is take you home
to my womb
to live or die
or swim or drown
or lay around
until the tide cracks and we die.
copyright: Meagan Jeanette 2006