waking up alone

your skin is precious like crude oil.

it’s highly coveted;

people fight wars over it, kill each other for access.

rare and expensive; holding you, I feel like a gambler hitting it big—

your body my stack of chips.

oil may be liquid gold, but your skin is creamed coffee

with scattered bits of soft, dark hair.

you taste like the first sip of the morning.

and just like caffeine, separation brings withdrawal.

needles trigger relapse for a heroin addict

and the smell of your bed reminds me of all the times I’ve had you.

the scent in your absence begets cravings

and I would do anything for the chance to touch you.

gold

i don't like when you hurt,

because you're precious like pure gold,

but equally as soft.

you reflect light so brightly,

sometimes you're all that i can see.

all the gold formed by supernovas in the star system dust

melted into Earth's core in the early days.

3,959 miles down,

sometimes it takes that long to get to your center, too.

since i've known you,

you've been mined, refined, and molded.

an artist formed you into something beautiful

and i fell in love with terrifying intensity.

your universal rarity amplifies my fear that you could disappear.

part of me wants to become a slave to the trade,

where you are the artificial deity,

because cash is king.

but we exchange a different form of currency,

and it passes between out bodies when we orbit each other

and makes us rich in a way a silly metal never could.

ice

if you're an iceberg,
then I man a small boat gliding through water
that looks like the sky right after
the sun descends below the horizon--
that blue that is almost black.

there is no sun here, only clouds promising snowfall.

to the layman, you are mysterious.
but to Archimedes, you simply obey the laws of physics.

you are freshwater floating in waves of salt;
alone,
but unique.

your beauty is unwavering across your vastness
and my humanity makes me feel insignificant to you.

but you are also cold, unyielding.
you travel the ocean with no outward regard.
what can be seen of you is just a taste,
most of you hidden below the water.

to be alone in the sea is terrifying--
you know that well.

i want to drill into your core and carve a home there.
i want to learn your crystalline topography--
even the jagged parts down below,
the hidden bumps you don't want seen.

bobbing along the liquid void,
we are two loners who could be one.

a wooden door appears in the ice.

i climb aboard.

i knock.