Subjects of Desire

by Jules Sokolowska

these days, you cry for his touch. you don't know why; you do know it's what one does; there is a gaping hole at the base of your spine where desire should reside. you cry for his touch, and inch away before he has the chance to give in. you're burning up and your hands ache with the feeling of blood freezing at your fingertips. you can't bear the weight of it, can't swallow it as yours. then, you see her embrace someone else. you see her being pressed up against the wall and, you can't help it, you imagine yourself doing the pressing. you're burning up and your hands ache with the feeling of blood freezing at your fingertips. desire; it bleeds through the rips in your skin and coats your body whole, pink to pink from the folds of your brain to the tips of your toes. you want her to kiss your hands dry of it. you finally know why.