Want

I.

of course nobody believes what you’re saying when you’re saying I don’t
want anything. of course there’s nothing more exasperating than honesty.
if you lay your heart out on the table it looks just like any other object
in a still life, except worse because you didn’t choose it, this heart, so the
interpreters have nothing to work with and leave the building disappointed.

II.

maybe I just wanted more from you than can’t we stand outside for a second?  
or this is our last blue moon until we’re 25, so shouldn’t it seem bluer? I’ll admit
to being one of those interpreters; to clearing out the furniture and rooting across
the hardwood floors for anything I can work with. but be honest: show me again
how little vacant space exists inside your body and then tell me you know exactly
how to fill it up. tell me there’s always been enough blood running through your
heart. I might not believe you, but at least I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.

III.

these long showers, itemized lists of my component parts, things I understand.
this was our stop. this was where we got off and maybe I just wanted more than
you’re sweet or I love you and I can’t have anything to do with you. a little more
than a peck on the cheek as I passed out the door but I never took it too hard.
I was 21 years old and when you’re 21 stopping never means you’re done
getting off. not before the day someone says I don’t want anything and moves
their body down the street, not til the first one follows through, you can’t believe it.

IV.
so I could never imagine a tautegorical heart or help enjoying a set of fingers
collaborating to piece me together. so I itch for a surface complementary to
that of my skin. you are walking into the room and you are demonstrating your  
self-sufficiency and I am envious, wanting to feel like that, with so little empty
space inside: a hermetic seal over the back of your throat, the ability to kiss
without letting someone else’s words creep into your mouth. a knot so dense
it becomes a thing or a thing so whole it becomes real: of course I wanted that,
but instead I just kept saying I want you--I want you--I want everything until
the lights turned out and nobody knew what to say because there’s nothing
to work with there. because once you go into a building alone it only has
an exit, because you can see our stop from here. I will do my best not to be
disappointed when you decide it’s best not to see what comes after that.