ballad of the blood traveler 

i made trails of his veins,
first inserting myself inside the needle 
& telling an angel to push the plunger down.
i traveled a cool metal hallway 
& thought of a high school gymnasium. 
once there, the leaves crumpled 
under my feet. the smell of a mountain 
cut through my being. his veins 
were thick & blue around me.
instead of blood
they were full of projections.
all the video players lay askew
on the floor & the ceiling & the walls.
voices from the videos overlapped 
like pleated fabric. 
i walked through a skirt 
of his words.
that saying about 
loving someone so much you let them go 
has never been true.
at least no for anyone i know. 
i loved him so much 
i had to become part of him.
or, at least,
that's i felt that night 
as i observed my reflection 
in his tiny beige bathroom's murky mirror.
outside on the street, cars grew pale legs
& played leap frog. on the tv,
he played Halo. i played a game 
where i would count down
from one-hundred & hope each time
he would come to save me by the end.
save me from what? 
from all the veins criss-crossing 
my own arms & across my chest.
angels are very different looking
than you might assume.
they are rugged looking 
with long white fingers (not wings).
one waived to me out the window
& offered me syringe travel. 
this is how i ended up 
a blood-traveler. 
he thrums azure around me.
i sometimes talk to him, my trailway. 
i ask if he misses our haphazard dates 
& my head on his shoulder & my shoes 
set by his front door.
he responds with blood platelets,
each soft like marshmallows.
i sleep each night in a pile of them.
his heart is a whirling star.
i am not lonely,
not at all. 
if we fall out of love
i will find another & another 
& another. at night sometimes
i wake up. i dream of my own blood & hope
someone walks under all my archways.
takes off their shoes in my throat.