Romantic love – I’ll just say it’s something I haven’t grown out of –
that’s what I’ll say;

I’ll pull my teeth out of your whiskers;
I’ll come back up for air
gasping
clutching my clavicle
for something
to ground me
to root me
a stray hair out of place
a stray root
still rooted
in these silly ideals
I should have given up 10 years ago

I’ll tell you I’ve grown past them –
mossy edged and weed ridden, I’ll tell
you I’m a woman now; I’m a realist now;
this isn’t my first rodeo,
and about 10 other cliches that roll off the tongue
that roll through my body
like a fire
like a flood
I’ll tell you it’s ok,
it’s just a Saturday afternoon; just a little prayer to the moon;
I’ll tell you I’m a big girl now
firm handed, strong-fisted
a real realist radiating with reason
I’ll sit in the stars and suck on the methane of the sun,
I’ll tell you I’m just a girl,
But by now I can’t believe you haven’t noticed
I’m hot breath and oxygen – supernova imagination,
Wildfire captivation, I am helium
I am exploding
(Your mouth just a catalyst)
(my heart just a chemical)
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