Voluminous

Yes, our hearts are so cut

You are so cut up

Like in the precise way you tell me things

They can cut off my voice

Like your expert, fervent shredder

You can make me feel like my bubbled words are voluminous, endless, stuck inside my mouth like toffee, sticky and sweet

But now I feel the scars of my heart and how I let it heal too fast

Before the wounds reopened…

I wanted yours to heal before mine.

Am I so cut up? Am I supposed to go on?

“No, you’re cute, not cut up,” you mumble under your breath, walking away.

I heard you!, I yell and you scoff but laugh anyway.

Not like how some might say I am the “office cut-up,”

I don’t play jokes

Especially not on you.

We laugh at the same jokes

It feels like a vibrant orchestra playing

An extended version of my favorite song

But how can we

Stop the cutting edge of phantasmagorical

Strain

From slicing off the voluminous

Rapture

Of us

When the creeping nightmares slip

Into our living room

And into the telephone lines

And I can’t reach you?