I've had the wind knocked out of me, but never the hurricane

I swallowed a hand grenade that never stops exploding.

I realise there's something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they're experts at letting things go.

I know it’s stupid to not own a gun yet have so many triggers, but in some other world gigantic seashells hold humans to their ears and listen to the echo of machines.

No rescue boat can save the touches I left bobbing in the wild ocean of your flesh, but if they cut open your heart, like the belly of a shark, dumped its contents on a table—would there be any trace of me?

I've been ignored by prettier women than you, but none who carried the heavy pitchers of silence so far, without spilling a drop.

Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth, like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.