BY JAMIE HAN
I am in love with an abstraction.
Stuck between thinking and feeling,
Between feeling and speaking, the words die
on the seat of lips parted. I confess in a dream,
kissing the horizon where the sky meets the sea.
I fall forever, leaving reality at the shore.
I swim with my eyes closed, and
dye my skin blue
until I cannot tell where my body ends and the water begins,
until it too becomes my nature to possess.
Water is a carnal thing,
but guilt is carnivorous. It devours all it touches,
and grows impossibly large with each passing phase
of the moon. Before I realize, I sink deeper,
deeper, until I’m lulled to the bottom of an ocean
that doesn’t exist.
I wake and I am alone in my bed.
I recall the seas, the skies,
the sadness. Salt stings my cheeks.
I think of the boy with shaking hands and scarred fingers
He had blue eyes,
and I wanted to kiss him. Wanted to know
drowning, without any hope of recovery. To find
simplicity in another body,
so to untether the obscurity of love from being.
So I crashed my lips onto his,
never expecting to find an entire ocean behind them.