You Will Always Be In My Blood

For my best friend

In the sand, by the sea, we hold out the pieces of our virginities on shaking palms. They are oddly shaped pills, these untapped parts of our souls.

The brilliance of the unexpected fascinates us, fists un-clenching simultaneously, haphazardly, "it just happened" is what is strewn across our lips, and it tastes like a heightened version of what we know so well when we tongue it with intrigued and flirtatious smirks denting our cheeks.

And we take from each other the pieces no one else would take and dissolve them beneath our tongues. We have found our place in one another's blood streams, nestled in against the current, with nothing but our erythrocytes to cushion our heads.

My heart was already so full to the brim of you that I am fearful of an overflow now that our ribs are spread open and we are offering up our depths to the ways of the fickle ocean winds.

Bearing our stomachs and lungs regardless of every possible famine and threat, we spit at the cautionary whispers hissing in our ears. This is not so much out of abandon, but rather the sober and proud understanding that even if the wind chooses to kick shut my ribs and pull me by the hair into the sea, you will always be in my blood.