plethora

only if it's an emergency

there are fireworks going off in my chest, but they're the cheap kind so they explode all over the place. there's fire in my ribs , burnt parts lodged into the muscle. pain is so hard to deal with. my body is screaming that everything is going to be okay, screaming like a firefighter shouting from the top of his smoke-covered lungs. there is so much to feel, and only so much he can do to soothe. the water sprays against the building of myself. the blaze roars in turn with the crackling of brick and bone. it has no mouth, but it swallows.

do you know how loud the sirens are?

in case of emergency: break glass. break my hands, break my teeth, break my heart and ground them into a powder so fine, you can toss it into the wind like ash. pull the alarm. pull on your blackest suit so that the blood doesn't show. but instead, let me be the one to mourn how much i can't touch you.

the fireman fiddles with the radio, turning the knob this way and that. there is so much static in my mind so much static in my mind so much

sta

atic

in my mind, that it is hard to hear the song of myself.

he presses his mouth to the receiver. his skin is black with soot, greasy with sweat. he is the last one of his crew, the only one that got out. "hello?" he says, voice shaking like the foundation of the burning building. "can anybody hear me? please - i'm alone" he remembers the charred flesh of the dead, the screaming of the bodies that melted like wax onto the floor. there is only so much you can do with two hands.

do you know what tragedy feels like?

i am waist-deep in sweet water and arm's length from globes of soft fruit. i reach for the warmth of your hands, those strong anchors we harbored parts of our love in, but you pull away. i reach for the feel of your mouth once more, the gentle feel of your lips, but you say no. i walk away swallowed by so much flame, so much want.

i go home and curl my body into a question mark, asking why.

"we can still see each other," you said sometime before this. "but only if it's an emergency."

i dial 911. you said that the first time we kissed, that there were fireworks. you said that every time we kissed, there were fireworks. you said all that with a voice like a spark of a match. so warm. so full of light. now that you're gone, what do i do about the explosions in my chest? we fought on new years once, but once the clock struck down, all we could think about was amazing the next 365 days would be.

do you remember?

us sitting on a bed in a room where we spent hours just kissing each other. touching. running our electric fingertips across our skin and pressing gentle i love you's onto each other in the dark. we moved like synchronized swimmers in the depths of ourselves. we had been so happy in that place of ours - our own little paradise of motion, and devotion. why didn't you tell me about your own burning building? why did you try to muffle the screaming?

i had been asleep when the bed caught fire, when the smoke filled my throat like oil. i had woken up to the sound of the door closing behind you, the image of your back towards me burned into my retinas. i reached out for you and saw my arm melt like wax onto my lap. do you remember the candles i put on the cake i brought to you that one day?

the fireman takes a hold of the hose and sprays it wherever he can. the flames lick at his suit, make little bites at his skin that get bigger and bigger with each second he spends trying to help. he thinks of the people he will leave behind. he thinks of a room. his grip tightens on the nozzle and he pulls back the valve. there is so much water but so little is being done.

i am lying on the bed where you loved me. my hand is outstretched, reaching for you. my fingers drop onto my lap like wax, like birthday candles. there is so much static, there is just so much. i say this with my body curled up into a question mark asking

why

why couldn't you stay?