Only Time shows love between magma and Oceans

You shouldn’t touch me,
I’ve got semi-solid fragments in my veins and
I tend to suffocate what I try to keep.
I’ve got soot boiling my bones,
magma swirling in my stomach
and pyroclastic clouds fluttering on my tongue.
I try to hold it all in,
but Love, sometimes its too strong
sometimes it’s been building too long.
And four-wheel drive
isn’t enough to get you over the slopes
of my hesitance when I’m spilling acidic rain,
darkening the skies with rolling memories.

On the beds of the Pacific
I met a volcanologist
who said my potential didn’t scare him,
that he awaited the brewing emulsions
shaking his bones to dust.
When time passes in waitings
and remodeled skin,
velocity starts to feel like panic attacks,
the circle of my arms,
more like a ring of fire
shattering the troposphere.

He tried to defy
means and medians and modes,
had studied overall colors
and discovered that those eyes
of his could never sit
in this ocean the way he wanted them to
when I continued to rattle the world in red.

I wanted to love him
embrace him in caressing techtonics
but I could never carve beautifully enough
to entice him,
to persuade him to remain solid
un-subducted

This coast of mine remains jagged.
I am not quiet
I am not beautifully rounded
soft or malleable.
I am often too loud
too abrupt
too confident on the roots
shooting from the soles of my feet.

I am terrestrial and can’t be trusted
I run too much
I cry too little
and I freeze too often
because I stupidly believe
it will keep me from slipping
into my own trenches

Don’t touch me, don’t look
I seethe quietly for a reason,
hide heartbeats in drowned glacial valleys.
You are so beautiful
but I only know how to collect sedimentary goodbyes.
I don’t know how to love softly
and you, my dear, deserve the kiss of moons.