Your skin tastes like…

On difficult days
When hours pass
With your tears drying up
And you find home
In isolation

Your skin tastes like wars
Wars that start in your head
And travel straight to your heart,
Wars that lead to an explosion
And leave wounds behind,
They bleed when pressed,
And they bleed when I hand you the sword
You say you like to fight your wars
All alone.

On cold winter mornings
When warmth is nothing
But a far-off land,
Your skin tastes like sunlight,
It burns when touched,
But eventually buys a trip
To the far off land of warmth,
But the trip lasts
As long as you wrap your arms around me
To bring me home,
And as long as you don’t
Wrap them too hard
And strangle me
And cut me out.

On days when you let me
Touch a part of your heart
And let me enter
Your little safe space,
Your skin tastes like hesitance,
As if it’s building walls
All around it
Immediately
Because I might tear that part
And take it away when I please
Give it back when I please,
Because bits of something,
When put together again
Do not make a whole.

On nights that rain,
And we give in to the downpour
Let it soak the whole of us,
Your skin tastes like cold water,
The one we crave
To fight the heat of summer,
But the cold water hitting
My completely soaked hair
Makes me sick,

I shiver at your cold hands
Ripping my heart out
And drowning it in the puddle nearby,
And your strange cold skin
Envelopes my soul,
Drowns me into the ocean
of your toxic love,
And I take a deep breath
One last time.

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