I stood on the edge of a cemetery.

I thought you’d push me, toward something,

Drowning into you, falling over you.

My body felt still and I heard you rummaging.

I smelled your breath within me.

 

Your shudder in my hands, I carry the old

And the burdensome, your bones, and your

Blurred memories. I absorb them, my tongue

A shovel. Digging in, into you, swallowing you.

And I feel the pores of death opening.

 

I think that if I take a step in any direction

I’ll perish because I’m held by your embrace.

Any gesture is misinterpreted by you, twisted and torn,

Hostile. I stop breathing because I don’t want to offend.

I melt my form, my lungs, my air, and dive into you,

Hiding, disappearing, forgetting my name.

Rokotov_Portrait_of_an_Unknown_Woman

Portrait of an unknown woman in a Blue Dress with Yellow Trimmings” by Fyodor Rokotov (1736-1808)

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