i started wanting
to sink my hands
into your skin
lighting lanterns
along your spine
i wanted to touch
the depths
(200m - 1,000m)
of that aphotic soul
of yours
i asked you
can you show me
that aphotic
soul of yours
i wanted to light
the way with
aquatic bioluminescence
for that aphotic soul
of yours
i even set
my pasty white digits
alight for you
like they were merely
dispensable
waxen candles
upon an organic
candelabra
i pretended to be
your anglerfish
in the darkness
so i watched my fingers
burn brightly and evanesce
till they pooled in
pearlescent lagoons
at my ivory knuckles
i asked you
can you show me
that aphotic
soul of yours
and then you did
you ripped open
your chest with
uncivil culture
bore naked to me
that aphotic soul
of yours
which spilled
over me
it's syrupy,
black tar
at which point
i realised
that aphotic
soul of yours
was not for me
but i could not scrub
that sticky ebon ink
out of my skin
for weeks
YOU ARE READING
ETIOLATED
Poetrythe silhouettes your eyelashes construct upon slavic cheekbones #42 in poetry 20/07/18 #40 in poems 16/08/18 #34 in poetic 20/12/18 © charlieisaneatfacade 2018
