my crush / on you– reproduces by budding / it grows tiny new crushes on its skin / a new crush on the slightness of your hands / on the collar of your shirt curling / 100 more on your nervous tics / sorry for bringing those up / sorry they all matured and / grew to bursting and fell / out of their own pores / sorry this became unmanageable.


i want you to not text me / so i can fret / be performative and fraught / and fail the math of you / and take you again.


show my work / in every sobbing climax in every crescent impression on my palm /
there is a version of you caressing my face with the back of a boxing glove /


i can’t wait to see what a droplet looks like / on your eyelash / i can’t wait to find a tick in the seam / of my groin after falling asleep / in the thicket of you. to brush your bramble / and feel the fear and sadness of pain.