i feel fluorescent / i feel holy

Elizabeth Sallow 

i talk to you about the weather, about what’s been on television
because i don’t want to talk about the way 
you make me feel. we sit on top the covers drinking tea and
you can see my soul in the afterglow. 

over exposed vulnerability, you fall asleep and i watch the sun
rise. the pillow presses creases into your cheeks and i think about
kissing them, about lighting you up in starlight. i think about the
way you hug my soul, the way you light it on fire. 

you wake up and i go to work. we carry on and i make 
thai curry when i get home. you kiss me against the 
stovetop and i feel fluorescent. i feel holy. i feel like god could
reach a hand through my spine and pull out my heart. 

pulsing, beating, bleeding. my skin feels soft and invincible.
we sit on the sofa and watch television. your arm 
around my waist, you hold me together, push my heart back into my
chest. we make love in the early evening and don’t reach the bedroom. 

i talk to you about the weather, but i should talk to you about the golden
glow that surrounds you. the haze in the lowlight and the stars. you make
me a cup of tea and i realise i’m falling in love with you. so i tell you, and
i ask whether it’ll rain tomorrow.

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Elizabeth Sallow (she/her) is a queer nineteen year old who lives in a small village in the UK. She believes in the universal and connective power of literature and hopes that she can make people feel understood in a way that she did growing up with her head in a book. Her work has been featured in interstellar lit, paracosm lit, and dust poetry amongst others. You can find her on Instagram @elizabeth.sallow

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