In a book of faces, yours picks me out.
Your eyes pierce the screen
Detached from me like your heart.
The daggers tear through my chest
And cut me up. Knot my stomach
And tie me down for I’m still free

To love a memory. I am free
As his arm reaches out
From around your neck. Stomach
Twists as you paint the screen
With the contents of my chest
And the beatings of my heart.

You still live in my heart,
Beyond eviction, rent-free.
Your playground is my chest
And, like the slide you’ve grown out,
It is hidden behind a tasteful screen
Of ivy and moss. My stomach

An over-grown garden. I cannot stomach
How you wipe your feet on my heart
By appearing on my screen –
An act entirely free
Of your will – with-out
The pain of us on your chest.

Lock my disappointment in my chest
And deposit the keys in my stomach
For them not to pass-out
Until you have left my heart
Free.
Free of the affects of this screen.

My mind is burnt by the screen,
My heart rages in my chest
And I **** you within my ribs. Free?
I’d rather you’d knot my stomach
And let my heart
Bleed out.

But I must get out
Break the shackles of your making
And be free.