swarms of little biting creatures at my ankles
smokey eye talent for your cover up
camoflauging your heart
or the thing thats there now
that you used to call the heart

i saw you naked
i saw you in bed

when i close my eyes i see showers of little water droplets cleaning you off
so i wont be able to smell
the smell of you getting ******
should i be worried?
should i care?

probably not
because i know where youre at
and its the same on my end
theres no blame here
how can there be
where all of us are categorically wronged against

acting accordingly
stapled up hearts trying to bear full loads of wet tears but at the same time trying to perform
what too many consider to be the proof of love

could you stay with me until the gold appears?
when i die its all yours
the big fat math problem in my bank account