Three Untitled

by Sophia Sherwood

Cream or sugar? Or
Both? You decide. It won’t matter
Once you stare down the center of the

Tallest tree.
It will not give you the
Answer. But it will bring you comfort.

The sand that buries
You does not care about your
Loneliness. But you will feel warmth beneath

Its fingertips.
The carpet of your childhood
Home reeks of mildew. But you will not

Care.
The page of that
Book you always meant to
Finish longs for
Your touch. Will you ever
Invite it out for coffee? Maybe it prefers

Tea. Will you ever know?
The bread you used to always bake
With your father is stale. But it will still taste

Just as it once did.
It does not matter, you
Go on ahead.

There are roots everywhere.
I see them, tangled and beaten
Beneath the basement of my
Childhood home.

I see them beneath the very ground
You walk upon, as you leave
Behind everything old in exchange
For everything new.

I see them weaving and tightening
Around the old LGBT support home
I once went to, when I was young
And scared and didn’t know a thing about the world
Or myself.

I see them dragging and
clawing at the sleeves of your shirt,
Begging you to stay when you know
It would kill you.

Our paths may never cross, but
Your roots and my roots
And his roots and their roots and
Her roots are all
Constantly growing,

I wonder about the ways in which yours have shaped you,
Just as mine have shaped me.

Mouths sewn shut
So as to not breathe too deeply
To breathe too deep is to let
The fire in
And we all know how fire burns

But the warmth can be so sweet
Delicate, fragile, like a violet
In first spring’s awakening
A tender embrace, a kiss

The kiss singes like flame
Something insatiable
Touching everything
Like a forest engulfed

Mouths sewn shut
But the thread is burnt away
We are gasping, breathing each other in
I bring you a bouquet of violets
But they wilt in the warmth of my hands

You say we are fire meets gasoline
I say we are flame meets flame
Only, I would never burn you, lover
I’ll sew my mouth up again just for you.

Infatuation

by Sophia Sherwood

I want to have meaningful, deep connections. Like
Open wounds.
Bleeding and pouring and gushing
And when there’s no more blood and they’ve crusted and dried over
I want to bandage each other up and kiss the scars and hold each other
Like we are pools of water in
Each other’s hands

And then I want to thank each other
For the good time
And say I love you even
When you’re ugly and mean and broken
And kiss the scars

I think that’s why I create those same
Wounds in myself
Desperate attempts at connection
A yearning so insatiable
Gashing tearing gnawing

But I find nothing but bone
No more blood to drink
So I seek out that of others
Clawing at their hearts and begging to be
Held but begging in the form of
Consuming

Please, baby, just look at me
Just look at me, everything will be okay
I don’t want to hurt you
I want to hurt me and I want you
To tell me you love me anyway

I want to open you up and eat your heart
And every piece of meat that makes you up
Until there’s nothing left but bone
Hollow and beautiful

I want you to see me as my worst
Most horrifying self
And think
Despite it all, there’s still love

Why can’t we eat each other without the labels?
Why don’t you want me to caress you, swallow you
Whole just so we can go and taste others
Soon after?

Why don’t you want empty I love you’s
And burning kisses
Nail marks down your back followed by
Inside jokes and empty promises?

You don’t want my double edged sword?
You don’t want my poison
My tar, seeping out of your ribcage?
You don’t want to stuff each other to the brim
With smoke and honey?

Baby, that doesn’t sound good to you?
Why, oh why not? I don’t understand

My charred flesh isn’t appealing to you?
You said you wanted a piece of it
Just to carry with you, a reminder of me
I’m cutting off every inch now
Flaying myself, just for you, lover

I’ll tie up my carcass with a pretty
Red bow
Just for you, lover

Aren’t you happy?

I didn’t mean it when I said I love you
I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t mean it,
Lover

Not in the way you think, at least
My love is a far different version
A melancholic rendition
More synonymous with death
Or decay

More akin to a forest fire
Burning through everything everywhere
All at once

Oh, no, I burned you didn’t I?

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it
I promise I didn’t mean it
We can kiss again once I’ve cooled
Can’t we?
Won’t you hold me again after your wounds have
Scabbed over, lover?
Won’t you look at me again?

I promise I didn’t mean it when I said I love you

I promise I didn’t mean it

Please don’t be afraid.