Her River

When I reached the river, she told me this water was fake.
I nodded sagely, understanding my reflection was also fraud.
Everything produced here is for show.

Everything.

I come twice a week, to check its validity.

Each time turned away
Each time feeling this same weight
Each time hoping I can shake it

I feel so horrified. I feel mutilated. I feel misunderstood.
And cheap for knowing those words.
And tacky for using them.

I'm not sure I was ever there at all.

This cage is becoming so comfortable.
When my bones need to grow, these bars press tight against my flesh, stifling development.
The cold steel pressed hard against my circulation.

Blackouts never seemed so appealing.
God, I want to black out.

Every time I try.
Every goddamn time I try.
I smell her.
I feel her.
I want her.

Never have I felt so incomplete. So inadequate. So touch-hungry.
I want this affection, this attention.

I want inside her head.
What the fuck are you thinking?

Beautiful woman, gorgeous woman.
Tell me.
I want to know your sins.

What do the corners of your eyes know?
What stories do the pads of your fingers hold?
I can see them laden with ink and magma.
Trace them across my lips, scar me with this knowledge

Prize of soul, educate me
Cover me in your inadequacies, your insecurities.
I want to know those too.
Let me taste their bitterness.

You say this water is fake, yeah I know.
But I can't help wonder

What lies beneath its surface.