by Ivana Marija Devcic
Kisses like buds on your neck,
flowering amongst pheromones
and dying beneath crushed grips.
Your teeth clutching like shiny pearls
– a ray of moonlight glistens on my lips –
for purchase, they move down, hungry;
a wolf grin materialises to
draw blood from a bite
you howl my name like
a curse from the depths,
and with shadow-eyed relish
I lick the sanguine in your mouth,
pushing you down into my abyss.
Catch me on the saline wave
as I ride up, down, up, down,
climbing on the crest of white foam,
I surge downward,
seeking oblivion at the highest height,
I find it in the part of yourself
that you gift to me,
then I tumble, shuddering,
on the heels of our shared fall.
Swollen, raw, plundered,
halves connected like the moon,
I want to forget myself
entwined with you like
the trail of a comet
in the constellations.
Hollow me out,
pull the stubborn pieces of myself
from within my ribs,
from the cage that I hide in.
Place them gently in the eggshell,
and lay with me inside,
so that we may spend eternity
in our own cosmos.
Ivana is usually cleaning that annoying smudge on her glasses. Regularly having existential crises (if they are consistent, can they be called crises?). Typically found with a book in front of her face – a standard sign of an INTJ in their natural habitat. If lost, look near the cats or salted crisps.