Impossible

All she wanted was to
weave her skin with his,
to tie their hair in
pretty bows and
suffocate in love as if
it were a
poison laced
with so much
beauty.

All she wanted was to
rip out his heart,
dripping with warmth and
sticky energy, and
squeeze it into the
cavity beneath her
ribs, next to her own,
where they would
beat and
live
together.

All she wanted was
to bottle that
love-struck emotion forever,
the one that she
sometimes saw dancing
between the veins
in his eyes; she
wanted to
trap it so
that when he
eventually left her,

she could
still remember
how to
breathe.