summer storm

So give it up, drama queen, crawl back in. Don’t kill yourself tonight

with that unrest in your chest,

cry it out. 

I feel myself getting meaner. 

Please forgive me. 

We didn’t grow up with the same religion, but please, forgive me for tearing you open with mouth and picking you to the bone.

 I’ll admit it too, I don’t stick it through,

 a premonition and I’m gone.

On my nightstand lives a vial of your perfume. 

Eight months in and my nightmares come even beside you. 

I am eager, hungry for the thunderstorm, I can soak to my skin 

and wait to be struck, if lightning won’t strike,

I will unplug my vibrator and stick a butter knife into that wall. 

I promise. 

Tears drip into my palms in the driver’s seat. 

I beg you to hit me 

until it’s out of your system, but you will never 

lay your hands on me. Yes, you do 

bare your teeth, just to lay them on me gently, 

as if you’re testing out the bite. 

A muse will break your heart a thousand times over. 

I’m here, fleshed out. Crawl in.

Ronit May is a twenty year old social work student at Ramapo College. Their work has been published in The Closed Eye Open’s Issue XI, The Blood Pudding, StreetLit, and more. Their second chapbook, A Sentence Is A Garden You Stumble Through (Hoping To Pick A Word So Beautiful), is a note on living queerly and delightfully and bipolar. It is currently available for purchase upon request.