i don’t much care for needles, but i would let you inject yourself into my vein and travel throughout my body

just to feel you in my blood as it pounds against my head, to know that in that rhythm you played along and sang

i don’t think about the needle when the nurse jams one into my arm, the sudden cool of an iv drip upon my fevered brow

they remark how nice my veins are as they stand up on my forearms, how easy it it to find one like a snake crawling under the skin

and i don’t look when they prod and poke, don’t imagine your hands running down my body instead, don’t long for you

i don’t much care for needles, but when i close my eyes and in that dizzy rush and small prick of pain i imagine you smiling

the sensations are nearly identical to my sleep deprived mind, to my feverish skin, to my romantic need, to my throbbing head

no, i don’t much care for needles, but you i love, and it is the sickness that burns like a candle in a hollowed out pumpkin, the light in my eyes