my lost soul

A Poem by E

if i could bottle things inside me,
i would send them to you for safe keeping.

i would bottle beauty and insanity.
i would bottle sex and drugs and laughter and idiocy.
i would bottle every word i know,
individually
with small labels that detailed
word origin
and
pronunciation.

i would send all my bottles to you
in a shoe box,
a prada shoe box
adorned with small beads
and spider webs.

and written on the top of the box,
in a foreign language so ancient and complex,
i would write my life story,
and tell you my secrets,
and my desires,
and the things i hate about myself.

and when i die,
i would want for you to bury that box in the desert.
i wish for it never to be found
by any living soul
until one day,
a day when both of us are dead and gone.

and then one man would find the box.
a man who spoke that long forgotten language.
and he would spend
20 days,
20 nights,
reading
rereading my story.
weeping over my sorrow,
and over things that tore me up inside.
he would laugh at my triumphs,
and smile
when i tripped up on myself.
reading my life
on the top of my prada
shoe box.

and when he opened the box,
he would know all my words,
and how to put them together in ways that would make me sing
and dance
and laugh
and cry.

he would know the scent of my sex,
the feeling of my passion,
the darkest intimacy of my mind.

he will be my safe keeper, the body that will encompass my mind.
he will be beautiful.
he will be loved