i feel within him the flash of sawdust. he reaches out to me & feels the smooth cold edge of a blade. she touches my jaw & you feel nothing. i touch her lips & the soft pulp of having been bruised. he snakes between us like water from a broken pipe. she sways her hips & you reach out for them. he grabs hold of her hips & kisses her. she grabs hold of my hair & kisses you. i taste soft salt and wine too sweet. i place my hand on his sternum & feel your heart race. she reaches into my mouth & pulls out a string of his breath. i break her kiss, i break his bones. she breaks my heart, breaks your bones. hunched over in the dark, we feast.

i’ve always had this thing about the other, the not-you within, the odd quality of dreams of being in your home that is clearly not your home, of seeing yourself while dreaming yourself, of being someone else in your very own skin. the comforting displacement and the unnerving familiarity, the yearning and the despair.