make me

i wonder if this is

what love feels like

your hand fisted in the collar

of my shirt

our faces so close

i could lean forward

and kiss you gently

or bite your lip

make you bleed

like i have bled

instead, i bite my tongue

tasting copper

but nothing i will regret

having said

like all these apologies

stagnating in my throat

maybe a broken plea

but i don’t know what for

i’d ask you

if i could find my voice

putting the pressure on you

to fix this 

and that’s selfish, isn’t it?

wanting you to hold me

like one would a lover

without the other iterations

of that silly little word

but that’s all i have

ran out of ways to make my sorrow

sound poetic and palatable

long before this infatuation 

blind-sided me so cruelly

and maybe right now

this is okay

your hands rough on my skin

but your voice so soft

when you look at me