My hands, 93 degrees Fahrenheit, and You.

Coco Goran

​

I must learn to hear the quiet sometimes

To have you wrapped inside my

Pinky finger, the nail bitten off

By a girl who 

She left an imprint 

Of a thousand raindrops there.

I am. Everything except arms

I am nothing

 

Hands hold. That’s all they do.

Tender and angry and lazy

A pen and your smile, under my

Bitten fingertips, where the golden

Light tips into your bathroom window.

You were the only time golden hour 

Made sense, the only real thing

At 5pm. Us, and a latte, and a

Car, and veins around America

Waiting for us. My heart is too

Tired from beating, kiss it better.

 

Here’s the plan: you. Me. the ocean.

Your cheek in my palm. It all makes

Sense now, doesn’t it? Am I foolish

To dream of ‘fulfillment’? Of anything

Else than this? Of all the quick

Thoughts put in ink on my hips just

To tell you that they’re real. I promise

I’m in love with you but Not Like That.

You are everything. I am too.

 

I can’t let my body hurt any more.

There is no story. No mirror in this

Cage of light. I want wind again.

Every clock has stopped ticking.

I will never be eighteen. Until

Next time, I am stuck in a state of

Dependence. I want different light

That won’t stain the walls yellow

I want sand in my scalp and a convertible

Someone to kiss my back and put my

Vertebrae back in place for they are

Broken too long. My heart can’t take

The emptiness. The nakedness.

 

Sweeten my heartstrings with your

Voice, little dove, for I am lonely. Let’s 

Just go, rely on the impermanence of 

A motel pool and walmart parking lots.

We’ll camp and write and paint and

Find a handsome stranger.

I hurt every time I see your arms. I 

Want to heal you but that’s not my

Place. There is nothing wrong with you

My dear, nothing broken.

You are everything.