i'm most scared of you when 
you say i don't love you.
it reminds me of my first boyfriend
who smelled like gasoline 
& the harder he loved me
the more i thought of fire.
i became fearful that 
the static from a blanket
or a sweater might send
us both up in flames.
i wore plastic clothing.
i ate cold food. 
up all night, i would 
scour the house for the source.
i knew all along that 
it was him
the gas
smell bloomed everywhere,
i felt it in the corridors
of my bones where marrow
is supposed to be.
& with a marker 
i would write 
i love you 
i love you
i love you
on the back of his
hand so that if he thought
of hitting me he might remember.
you are not 
a gasoline boy
but sometimes after 
a shower the house smells
like that.
while you're
asleep i find myself
searching for inflammable 
fabric to make myself
a body.