he says he can feel his heart getting covered with pink strawberry milk

 

he’s never had strawberry milk before

but he knows i like sucking on the fruit like a child does,

a popsicle

 

he says he’s falling

and cannot tell if this falling feels like that from a cliff into the oceans

or down a hole in the ground spiraling into nowhere and

everywhere

 

he hurts when the wifi disconnects because my skin is one too many miles away for his fingers to sinfully prance across

and my voice has to travel in broken sound waves through metal and steel that

get to touch the lower half of my cheek instead

 

he drinks his whiskey straight and prefers to light my lips on fire so he can

smoke them

the high lasts longer

he says, makes him age in

reverse

 

he is dripping

his soul is thick, over layers

and layers of vanilla yogurt lies, he’s been running

for so long he forgot what he was running towards, until now

i dropped a straw

immersed it into his pink, frothy mess, and

slurped all of his horrors away

 

i poured 100 mL of me in

 

he feels heavier

 

and he says he wants to never feel light again