ii. the vacillator

a ghost of touch lingers;

too light to hold, too deep to forget,

i scrape at the remnants,

but your name stays buried beneath my skin.

the sound you make when there's no escape,

it lingers in my head like a hymn.

a secret swallowed whole,

a moment we dared not name,

pressed between the hush of memory,

and the weight of a closed door.

if you love me,

don’t say it, don't breathe in it, keep it to yourself,

let it stay hidden in the dark,

buried in the spaces between gasps,

between fingers clawing at something fleeting,

between the quiet tremble of what shouldn’t be.

i could make you stay,

but only in the way i know how;

twenty two times over,

until my name is the only prayer

you can choke out in the night.

if you love me,

keep it to yourself.

if you love me,

keep it to yourself.