Attention, attraction,
affection, attachment,
with trust in you too large to trust 
myself so little,

I can feel my tongue growing numb.

Desire, loyalty,
concern, partiality,
to trust your hands with this body—this body
whispered to merely devour lovers’ hands.

I can feel the veins in my eyes growing red,

when to rest would be to 
grab your hand,
to trap it beneath my face, 
keep it safe.

But I swallow my faith in you, trap it down,

and I let it create fantasies to try to find its way out,
making illusions to riots, just a love,
like a myth, trapped inside, cradled deep, 
like a monster.




(first featured in NCLM)