Took a break from my essay planning to write this.
Love is not fire.
It’s liquid, it’s water, and I overflow with it.
I try to plug up this hole in my chest but it gushes out
All over my hands
All over the floor
And all over you.
You don’t see the flood.
You’re caught in a rainstorm
And the drops thunder down around you
And the wave I make is just a trickle in your eyes.
Your hair is plastered to your neck
And your clothes are soaked through
And they just get wetter
Because I can’t stop
The lid won’t go on
The cap won’t fit
And the water just keeps on coming
Until I run dry inside.
Now I’m a Sahara and all I want is to be refilled.
Please, give me water, I beg you.
You’re drenched, there are puddles at your feet
And the plug in your chest is leaking.
You give me the tiniest sip
But it just makes me thirsty.
So much thirst.
I beg you to wait
But you’re already gone.
Gone to give your water away like extra change
To people who are already rich.
I’m parched and my throat is dry
But you can’t see my cracked lips.