My Inner Workings

A Soul

'The drag of your hand across my chest sparks a blaze my lips can not extinguish
You, stubborn inferno
You drive fast and damn the red lights for slowing you down
You see my veins shake at your first touch
The power to move my blood on your own accord
The definition of heart
And after the stick shift jerk, I beg my skin to do tricks- like forget how good it feels to lose control between the burning house of your hands.'

- Ryan Shaver(13 reasons why)

I stand here, quiet.
Reciting the very words that have carved themselves onto the stone like walls that surround me.
The very words that have become as much a part of me, as the curves of my thighs and the curls in my hair.
Thighs and an Afro, I couldn't possibly refuse.
Words, I couldn't possibly un-carve.

Words, I have recited a hundred times before.
Words that make my lower lip quiver in agony.
In despair.
In grief, for the meaning they will never truly have to me.

I mourn, for the words I never had nor will.
I whimper,
"Will my heart ever awaken to you?, will I ever feel the blaze and the earth quakes?".

I wail, for the oceans I will never keep.
The seas, I will never drown in.
The wind, that will never carry me.
The fires, I will never consume.
And the earth, that will fail to swallow me whole.

I wail, in hopes of turning my tears into hands that will wrap themselves around my waist.
In hopes of turning my pleads into voices that whisper fire and hurricanes into my ear.
Dreaming that my screams will one day change into a fire place,
The opposite end of a magnet,
A telescope,
A heart,
A body,
A corpse,
Anything,
A Soul.

I sit here, envious.
Envious of those that dare to swim or drown.
Envious of those that lay under the ground.
Envious of all the things that I will never do or be.
Envious of all the things, my heart will never truly envy.

I open the red door,
I pour ink onto the white inside.
"My nightmares are your daydream, and your nightmares are mine."