I can’t tell you.

But last night, you entered my chest

for play, some kind of game, like ‘Operation’

and then I couldn’t sleep

I jolted – shivered – jerked – quirked,

now my eyes don’t close

and my body is a pulse,

you tiptoed across my ribcage,

leaving foot prints enlaced by landmines,

you slept on my lungs,

short wired my arteries,

you clipped the circuits of my heart -

exhilarated and frightened,

because you knotted my red and blue wires,

now, I sleep hugging my chest

- Cradling a bomb –

overnight my skin pixilated into a fragile shell

under the crevices, the patterns of your fingers:

I must trust your touch

despite your palms of cold metal,

your lips of iron strength,

You kiss me! You kiss me! You kiss me!

My red heart, ugh! -

My scarlet lips, ah!

My rouge blush, wow!

My ruby underwear –

Yes! Yes! Yes!

My bloody womanhood, its fruitfulness –

The best! The best! The best!

This – is – our – rainbowww!

And I could burst,

and if we break…

I will bleed the same colour,

Painting this passion across the walls,

scattered and splattered – a child’s finger painting,

So, now I see why love is red…

because ‘falling’ is really falling

and who knows how hard or close this ground is.