You told me, “to bed with you”
and now I am a land
between memories and the ridge of a scar.
You gave me something to look at:
bruises like nebulas that receded
into my skin.
Your touch — oh how I tried
to worry those wounds
with my own.
The stories blur,
Ghosts and gaping holes appear —
in the black
at the edges —
I don’t recall them burning so beautifully.
Abandon ship. It’s time.
For me to change places.
For you to peer through the waves.