Would You Love Me?

by Taylor Turner

 

I woke up and
all my bones were gone,
woke up wet  
not sweaty            just wet. 
Like earth-wet,
like something slimy and soft  
already moving before I knew.
I thought of you 
like I always do
like I always would 
if I could.
I crawled to your door  
slow and dumb and 
full of need.
I dragged myself up—
God, it was humiliating
being so small
so close to the ground
I said, “baby!”
or I tried
it came out like silence.
But you           you stood there  
like you didn’t know  
like you couldn’t love  
a thing like me.  
Like you could just   
turn around and forget  
how we kissed—
like teeth            like fire
like people. But now 
I am this  
and you are not here  
and I eat dirt now.  
I move in the dark  
no hands            no face  
just swimming in the earth.
I tried again
I tried to show you
how much I 
still loved you,
but you wouldn’t look 
wouldn’t touch
just a silent shake 
of your head
like I wasn’t me,
like my body meant more 
than my heart.
I guess you liked me
when I had a face.
I think about you 
aboveground, not thinking 
about me. I shrivel up
and the rain comes
and I surface
and I wish  
I could drown.
I woke up and
I’m a fucking worm.