Posts Tagged ‘if’

If you could lift these wounds,

peel them off like children’s stickers;

if you could house my faint heart

drumming under your arms,

my face pressed against the maternal warmth

of your chest.

if you could see me;

infantile, sobbing over scarlet cuts and scrapes,

the opening of my innocent skin– this Earth’s first incision.

My darling, my friend,

of whom I know so much and still

so little,

would you be there?

Would the hole in your chest contract,

and your starry-eyed glitter of dreams

recede into your pupils

so you could wholly see the crimson blood of reality?

My darling, my friend,

would you extract yourself

from your fragrant life of new suitors

just so you could cup the softness of my temples

and cool the agitated flare that beat, beat, beat

such a racket against my skull?

If you could take an excursion

from the humdrum sidewalks

and lost-luster neon so we could venture forth

into the dark and endless green, the contained infinity of the natural,

would you?

My dear dear friend, would you?