It feels like static and it burns my ears with the distortion and noise but I can never quite find where it’s coming from. I keep thinking it’s in the empty spaces between me and you, cradled in the lonely state lines that have nothing else to hold. That maybe it’s in the way you say my name because you have to, not because it tastes like lumps of sugar on your tongue. I could fall into the ocean and make a home under the tides until I grow gills and a fish tail. I’ll have pearls for teeth and the starfish will replace your hands over my breasts where the tips of your fingers memorized the curves. And you wouldn’t mind leaving me behind.
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