i cannot remember how your lips taste.
i can only remember they felt like
an uninvited guest trying to move in.
your lips and teeth are perfectly
made to **** on skin
so then you won't have to make lies with them.
but i let you in.
(maybe if i do what
he wants, no one will get hurt).

the tribe of my love,
has never been one to be
silenced by any lips but my own.
that should have been my
warning for a war cry.
but it was too late.

you were Columbus Day.
you came in as a new reality
and you left as a tragedy.
you put a knife to the strings
that held us together.

there is a spirit floating around
the ghost town of my heart
that is mourning the loss
of your name.

it is aching to hold on to
memories before the battle,
but is blind to see the bodies,
the bullets.

we have taken a knife,
and cut the strings that
held us together.


(for many people, Columbus Day only expresses the start of the damage introduced by imperialism, colonialism and the celebration of the birth of issues in North America, that still happen to plague us world wide)