Mosaic Winter 2015 | Page 18

La Primera Pelea MC Seth McBride It is night and on my pillow are puddles of our tears. Usually the wet we sleep in comes from waves between my thighs, responding to your touch while I sketch on your sweaty back with my curling nails. It is night and my lips taste like the sea; I try to catch your tears with my mouth falling like stars down your cheek but I’m the atmosphereI can burn you up, I can hurt you and it’s true what you said. I have the capability of destroying you. Yet it is night and it is you holding my body, it’s quaking in fear that I’ve used up your love like man is using the Earth’s oil and that you and I are tectonic plates colliding, bringing buildings into the ocean. It is night and the half moon is bright, contrasted against our bodies waning into sleep. 18