King of Bones - Stephanie Johnson

the first time we met, i opened my mouth and everything came pouring
out: my heart and my lungs and my stomach and veins; my bones and my
muscles and skin.

the first time we met, i opened my mouth and swallowed you down:
the hollows of your eyes and the warmth of your smile; the air
around your ears and the loss between your fingers and your
every distant word.

the first time we met, our words crashed into each other
with all the grace of an addle-pated ballerina, bones cracking and
hopes sliding past until everything slid into place, like the pieces
of some puzzle i had never bothered to complete before then.

of this they assure me, time and time again –
when you are here, they say, the silence falls away
like time through the fingers of one determined
to make it stop

(i spread my fingers out across your ribs and hold my breath
until our heartbeats match, the rise and fall
of our chests the only thing strong enough
to drown out all the words that collide inside
my skull: hadron or not, these walls are slowly
sucking the life from our lungs, and my hands aren't large enough
to stem the flow of love that bubbles from under
your skin, or the laughter from your mouth)

if i could stop time, i would – i would freeze
your smile and tape it to the inside of all the books
i haven't opened yet, so when i pulled the cover aside
i would feel you anew.

if i could stop time, i would – i would take
your hands and press them to my chest; steal the words
from under your tongue and hide then under mine,
so you would have to touch me to get them back.

(if ever i would have the fortune to catch the aftertaste
of love before it was gone, it would be now)

if i could stop time, i would – i would rip
every piece of you you gave away from the hands of those
far more deserving than me and hold them close, until
it started to rain and all my edges began to blur as i melted
into you and slid down the drain