In front of me there is a door
and everyone knows that the heart pumps blood
but what science didn’t tell them
is why I can’t stop trying to open you,
like the petals of a flower,
and you are so delicate,
like stars plucked from above,
burning my hands,
my lips, my hips, my breasts
I just want to hold you against me.
I’ll take the scars as sacrifice,
quit clawing,
and call it even.