whenever i’m driving, it’s like all of the rebellious animals decide that we’re going to play “scare the shit out of the driver” and decide to run/walk/fly RIGHT IN FRONT of the car
the first time we made eye contact
i almost ran to rinse out my eyes.
i want to paint on the surface of your skin
the way michelangelo freed the angel from the stone
so you can see all the beauty
i know extends its wings within you,
the way van gogh chiseled cracks
into the rainclouds for the brightest slivers of light.
you are mostly made of water
but your glow is so blinding
parts of you must be acidic, and i keep
exposing you to my most reactive parts
trying to find the compound that will make you blow
because i don’t want to wait until cremation
for someone to set my heart on fire.
you wondered why i said you were like a volcano—
they look just like regular mountains
only there is something burning inside.