What do we ask for when we ask for nothing? It’s not an absence. It’s a solid space emanating from the body, a boundary we are guarding on night watch. That line we do not cross.
“I want nothing.” Such a different remark than “I want for nothing.”
What is this ‘for’ that plants itself between words? A statue. Smooth polished marble. Something to be bartered for or stolen like a collectible to line on a shelf and not touch or a lover to pry from a marriage.
I resolve to be untouchable. Immoveable. Stoic. I resolve to sculpt a new me from the ruins of the old, a rebirth, a phoenix from the flames.
I want nothing and so it follows that I want for nothing.
Take this heart, reader. Take the flesh and blood and replace it with something strong, something hard, something platinum or gold. Iron or silver. Bronze, if you must.
Give me your hands. I’ll write you bad poetry on the palms and smudge the ink on my skin. I’ll whisper promises in your neck. I’ll sketch you futures on the back of your eyelids as you come. I will leave you with nothing but the imprint of my lips and the sweat on your skin. I will give this gift to you. My eyes burning in the dark. The pad of my bare feet on the floor.
I will leave you raw; wanting more.
Fever Ray – If I Had a Heart