Dreams haunt every aspect of my being
Dry my mouth becomes when I try to speak your name
Unfeeling to the blade that kisses my skin
Ugly oozes from the gashes on my arms
I'm a prisoner to the thoughts that rage inside my soul
Love is what I've felt for you but now it's gone
Death will show me the brightness of the stars
He will cherish me and make me grand in the world of the damned
Feelings will no longer matter where I'm going
I will no longer suffer
"I can see the life in you."
"It sort of leaks out of places."
Charlotte raises an eyebrow.
Okay, how so?"
Paul clears his throat.
"So you know how people like to
associate love with red, the color?"
"I guess so."
"Well, you just, like, glow red."
"That's called blushing. People do that, you know,
when they're embarrassed."
"No, this is different. It's not on your face."
"Where am I red?"
Paul looks at Charlotte.
He sees her large nose and her pigeon feet
And her brown hair everywhere
And her crooked teeth.
He sees the sunset from the week before on the Oregon coast in her eyes
And the tomato garden her mother used to keep
And the spot of early melanoma he found on her back a year before.
He sees the sneakers with the hole in the toe
That she bought for him and he remembers her words
Red makes you run faster
And he remembers his words to her
So that I can catch you?
Because she's always moving towards something brighter
Than he can force himself to look at.
He sees the door to her townhouse three blocks from his apartment
From his own stoop
Because she took a can of paint to it,
While her landlord wasn't watching.
The empty can sits on his desk full of stubs of Ticonderogas.
Paul looks at Charlotte.
"Well, how am I red?"
"The longer I know you the redder you get."
he doesn't see what she thinks of him.
what every little word does to her, or how she hooks on to his every word.
how him being close one day and distant the next kills her.
or how her disorder is blowing this out of proportion.
does he hear her stomach rumble?
does he see the gashes on her skin?
does he care?
she thought he was immune to her disorder because of how clearly she saw him.
but then, he changed.
or did she change?
not even the strongest prescription glasses or hearing aids can make him care.
not even the strongest antidepressants or mood stabilizers can make her see that he does.
Violation of country sovereignty
Causing huge damages and bloodshed
Innocent people including children are victims
Destroying nations integrity
Drone attacks are bona fide form of tourist’s activity
Headed by under the umbrella of state
Increasing lost of innocent people rate
Livid, then the jogging man pushing his child with cerebral palsy glided beside me, and I felt sick with petty spite.
I ran to the building for the nearest bathroom and vomited back every saccharine word I ever breathed into your mouth.
Excuse the blood, the ulcers you left are raw today.
I haven’t eaten joy or devoured love since while putting your blouse back on, I came up behind you and kissed the back of your neck and whispered that next to your eyes, that was my favorite part of your body.
I washed the spite and vomit out of my mouth with tap water and shame, they both tasted metallic against my tongue, like biting too hard and the jolt of tines on teeth.
I bit the fork and tasted regret and chipped enamel.
Is that what his tongue tastes like for you?
When you kiss his neck, does part of you still taste my skin?
The smell of the ocean that you only ever visited once, but every day for more than a year.
Do your fingers ever expect to tangle themselves in the seaweed of my curly hair?
I've been trying to remember your scent. You smelled of running through apple orchards, the sweat and the blossoms on the air whipping between trees and seaweed curls, the ocean.
I can only remember the taste of sea salt and chipped teeth.
But when you taste his lips, do you ever taste the salt of me?
Do you ever smell the ocean in the air, the ocean on my lips?