JaMie wants me to move on with life
and wants me to do it
without any fight
She has expressed her intentions
for permanent scars
and showed me her body where
he'd ****** a little to hard.
Her pleasure in watching
the collapse of my chest
left her looking for more bruises
poised to take my last breath.
But wait there was more that she
needed to share.
It was time to hear how little I knew
and stupid each night while waiting for you.
Dry heaving sounds from a confused reaction
A lump inside from her satisfaction
I think Im done though she said more
it ends in with ***** all over the floor.

When words can’t say what you want them to
when your failures resound an anthem or two
I find your tongues more appealing than news
about the location of other phantoms or blues

When lines don’t line up the way I want them to
when I’m left heart-shattered at the peak of noon
Interrogation starts on our quarrelsome revenue
turning into May – is this a “hickie or a bruise”?

But may I ask you – not that I may not – I do
want to know – is this a “hickie or a bruise”?
Is it love is it a fight we put up because I blew
up all the sadness in your discs of jazzy blues?

But may I add to your sorrow a pinch of red hue?
would that enable us to create baby violets in lieu
Of blue depression or red violence – I want you
but wouldn’t choose between a hickie or a bruise

The color violet may be hard for you to value
when things suddenly emerge from the soil to
Bring forth new & renowned substantial food
it might seem like the plants speak in Hebrew

The bruises I tailored for you are hidden in the zoo
wandering preying ‘fore its attempt to ooze on you
But only when the lines line up & words overused
do they finally say my love what you want them to

The wings of butterflies let the sun shine through
now we know this is not a bruise
But a sun-kissed glow
it’s you
-

she moved in at around 2 in the morning. I had a new roommate. I woke up groggily after hearing voices and tried to shape her with my eyes but I couldn't make out much. I went back to sleep.

next morning I woke up and saw her. cream soda colored eyes....to die for. we spoke maybe a sentence and then I left the room. I'd always contemplated what it would be like having a girlfriend in a mental hospital.

all day we went through counseling groups along w other girls but I kept searching for her hazel eyes.

we spoke to each other and pretended as if we annoyed each other (flirting) and I was having fun w this girl.

it was nighttime and we were in the room, still flirting. she was given medicine and was acting particularly goofy. we were both being obnoxious and messing w each other. I said something like 'shutup' and she came close to me, talking trash. our faces were inches apart. I made it a point to stare at her lips...cotton candy. we sat there for a minute just staring in silence until I moved closer to her. I expected her to then move the rest of the way so our lips would touch but she just stayed there staring so I went in for the kiss. her lips.... we kissed again and then moved on as if nothing had happened. I had to have her.

she kept coming over to my bed, climbing over me and getting in my face, and I kept grabbing her neck and kissing her. I had to. I'd be a fool if I didn't. she was beautiful.

at one point things were getting heavy and she warned me that once she was revved up she could not stop. that made me even hungrier. not before she gave me the most vibrant hickie of my life, she said she had to stop or she'd have me right then and there.

the night went on.

I got discharged from the hospital the next day and I replied to the note that she had written me earlier ('since I'm a bit mad at you right now I guess I'll just write it. I like you a lot.....') and I told her that I liked her too.

our last kiss was the most painful.