In imitation of “Litany of Failed Lines from Previous Poems” by Susan Nguyen
We are hurricanes.
I am all sighs and gasps when our lips collide.
I forgive you for that time you said
you didn’t want to get married but then professed
me as your wife to your brother’s best friend.
Your heart is shrouded in barbed wire.
I want to crawl through those razor ribbons and hold that forsaken organ.
I used to believe love’s caress was akin to cool spring rain
but your hands are twin branding irons.
You’re a collection of classic movie facts
and words I wish you would take back.
Spend time studying the mechanisms of my mind.
Feed my soul with your worlds, your stories.
Memorize me like that Mexican restaurant menu.
Rather, memorize me like the craft beer list of your favorite hometown brewery,
which features drinks such as Wit We Do in the Shadows and Soul Geometry.