Slay

these memories are painted gold

and i won’t let go of you and your brown skin

 

i remember,

in a tiny car, midsummer,

you fell into my shoulder

like a windswept wave, 

and cascaded into my flesh,

your fingertips could have reached out

and touched my heart

you were so close to my chest,

 

and i -

a dapper, misinformed image of a hero

grasped your hand like a sword

slaying myself,

the implicit fire-breather guarding

the prestige of a new love

and i slayed myself,

the eager-toothed sea creature

sitting on a nest of sacred trusts,

we slayed me

 

and even miles later,

i am still stroking both my scar and my ego,

i am babysitting the thought of you

as though it’ll run into the street

when i’m not looking,

i am rocking the feeling of your eyes

like something between us is still newborn

 

and maybe you’ll resent me,

a shriveled up, hollow shell of a funny story

for you,

maybe i am just the face side of a penny

you’ll never flip over

 

however,

i will keep you like a rib or a cell

moving freely with me,

and if nothing else

you'll be

the yellow light of a beacon

flashing dayglow in giant rays

across my transfixed face

 

i will be that thing in your life

which survives a summertime heat storm

with a glimpse of golden pain -

i’ll always be carving spaces for you

despite having been slain

 

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© 2018 by D. Inez "Z" Bell