I Want You
I cannot sleep, my eyes burn scarlet. I want to cut a piece of you and put it over ice while I slit a vertical gap on my chest where I want you to be anchored for safety purposes. I want you. I want you so badly. I am insomniac. Come fill the ever expanding hole inside of me, caress me, upside down, smack me sideways, make me come, and come. The air feels forever thick without you. I don't want that boy at the train station who smiles at me every night as I pass talking to myself, at you, with you. Hold me. Hold my hand as the train shrivels right and left above the bright city lights. I want you so badly. I am insomniac. Come and lie down beneath the ceiling light and listen to music, and soothe me, fix the gap, pinch the beauty mark on my breast, and tell me you love me so much that you could just stop breathing. And I'd say, well, I'd say I love you so much I wrote a poem about you so I would stop wanting to kill myself and pour my ashes over you.
Jamie Lin grew up in New York but migrated to the South for college, warm weather and to get away from the parentals. She enjoys emotionally aggressive stories. Her website is at jamielin.net