A Handful of Gernades

"i.

Kill me by giving me a grenade
and telling me it’s your heart.
I don’t want to know what your favorite color is,
but I do want to know what color you bleed
when you’re with me.
I had a dream that I painted my body blue
and melted into the ocean
that you swam through.
I woke up crying,
tasted salt,
and thought
“this is what it must feel like
to be the sea.”

ii.

I mean,
what else can this heart do but break or fall in love?
There’s a grenade rocking back and forth in my chest
and I’m holding the pin between my teeth like an apricot pit.
My palms are mines and you’re just a finger’s length away
from leaving me splattered across your chest, but yelling “Cover!”
and pulling the bedsheets over our heads
isn’t going to do anything but
make me hold onto you as if you were the only thing
standing between me
and a bullet."

Shinji Moon, “A Handful of Grenades”