heavy milk

i love too deeply like a clementine behind a grape peel, thick skin with bitter water.
if a puddle on a sunken sidewalk is love, i have fallen in. 

i have stepped in liquid heartache, it is chewed gum on the soles of my shoe. a tongue of cinnamon and cigarettes, you have.

where is the love i saved for myself?
must have left it on a train to new york city.

how slowly ten minutes can go by. 
time holds my bones together with its white grip,
the calcium is getting to me.
up to my neck in milk, i am 2 percent closer to you.

a skim puddle of bleached water disguised as constructive criticism,
two more cups until your blood turns to cream.

mix it with a plastic knife and watch it melt to steam. 
is it oatmeal or alchemy?

i ask you, who am i without my name? without the sound the calls me, (your tongue against your teeth)
i am an empty girl.
what word would you know me as if the syllables fell asleep? like weak clouds filled with steam,
tell me my name.