I can only live in extremes.
I am the waterfall
and then
I am the memory of bursting lungs and upside-down thoughts.
I am the knives
and then
I am the softest heart you’ve ever held.
I am your dreams and nightmares
from minute to minute.
I am dead weight
and then
I am flying,
so high so high even the clouds can’t be my ceiling
I am the silence
and then
I am the bombs scratching souls
until they have no concept of healing.
I can only touch you in extremes.
I am scalding
and you drink me in like coffee,
you can smell me on the mornings your bones wake up exhausted enough to need it.
I am scalding
and you drink me in like coffee,
not caring for your blistered throat
I can soothe anything but heartbreak
with a beautiful fist like this.
Two steps and I am so cold
I could be a glacier song blaring from a snow-capped radio,
drums that beat like icicles
to mark your bare chest,
now that your hands have known me
you feel like you need scars to be complete.
I told you.
I live in extremes.
I live on the two poles of the world
and nowhere in between.