you kissed me
and our lips were so dry
they fused together
i lost two layers of skin
and seventeen layers of heart
as you pulled away
you said it was a sign
that we should be together always
i said nothing
[i know, it really means what i always knew
no matter how much i need you
no matter the good intention behind it
no matter that you think you love me
i will get hurt by this]
i wanted to write
to poetry pen pals
[thisbitisforyouthisbitisforyou]
about berry blood on store-bought bandaging
and closing you eyes
when the lgiht from someone you love
gets too bright to bear
and shuddering proximities
with murmurs of recognition
hold you together
but all i can think of is him
there are no songs or poems, or in fact
words
beautiful and hurting and sad enough
to catch him
you are a thumbprint on glass
and i take jokes too far
all i can talk about
is disinfected darkness
i will sit here
i a cold abandoned lab
while you live my life
and my pen is breaking in anticipation
i cannot write you
the only way for me to show you
what he is and what he means and how hard it is
to know where i stand
[on the cliff, my darling, always on the edge]
is for you to fall in love with him too
but i would not wish that
on anyone
it would be easier to pull my pen apart
but it suffers more this way
No comments:
Post a Comment