Poetry 4 lines

But Saying It

08 The Love Issue · 8 of 12

but saying It, I can't
fluttering from ribcage to grey matter stumbles in words I study   lingering vibrations on my skin  the urge for each boxed thought to find a new light  deep breathes not removing your air on exhale   the stillness of nature disturbed with my high pitch telling you about it   a study of character when I’m distancing my literature essays   sourceless illumination heatless liquifying of my sturdy walls   parasitic worms demolishing my daydreams with you   prickled blushes blooming defiant gazes twitching fingers for yours
where is my body?                     why is it no longer mine? to which I owe you my lack of autonomy                    and to which I don’t want it back.