2 Poems | Megan Rockett

Last Night I Dreamt We Were Made Of Stars

Your calloused hands
And consolation kisses
Are keeping me awake.

I am filling the hollow space
In your collar bones
With empty affection
And misplaced curiosity.

I wonder what you look like
With an earthquake in your lungs
Quivering beneath the weight of
My being
Gasping for air in this sea of
Lust and longing.

In the quiet hours of the morning
When you are half asleep
I’ll kiss your neck
Behind your ear
And whisper:
Drown in me.

 

Dance With Death

I almost had you
when I was tasting cigarettes
on his tongue

When I was lying on the floor
of the swimming pool
at my parents’ house,
choking on chlorine

When I was stumbling over
the Broadway Bridge
sobbing and slurring and spitting up
the bourbon that lingered
in the back of my throat.

There’s a name for the feeling you get
in the pit of your stomach
when you’re standing at the edge of a cliff.
Call of the Void.
That’s what they named it.
That’s what chasing you feels like.
Like almost falling to your death.
Like almost feeling okay.

————
Megan Rockett is a vegan, queer lady of the redheaded variety. She was born on a full moon and has an aversion to artificial lighting. She lives in Portland, OR where she works with dogs, rides her bike, and write poems about the ocean. Tumblr: littleredrockett.tumblr.com

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