you think you know me

you think you know me
because the small of my back
fit the dip of your palm
like two cleanly split pieces of pottery
and because i
danced with you like your shadow did
in the almost dark places
my cheekbone pressed hard
against your chest
your ribcage separating me
from your heart
you think you know me
because you’ve tasted my skin
wet honeydew on a sultry summer night
i wanted your hands in my pockets
i wanted your soles on my palms
i wanted to lift you up to Orion
but the trouble was
that i didn’t know the stars would take you
i didn’t know
that i belong to
myself—:
this caused me to explode
outshining the sun
then
drying up like the residue
the sand leaves in
the crevices
of a seashell

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About laurenfedorko

Aspiring writer. English teacher. Philosophy: know more about the world than you did yesterday and lessen the suffering of others.
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