oh, darling, don’t you want to be saved?
there is a halo in his mouth,
there is a halo in the back of his throat,
and there is a halo carved into your hips -
you hate him for ruining you. you hate him.
maybe you were holy once,
but he desecrates with his hand around your neck, he says that his god is the only god, and you tell him “well then, baby, i can take you to
heaven,
well then, baby, i’ll worship you
and only you,
well then, baby, i’m not getting any younger.”
he kisses you again, he moves up and down your flesh like a car crash on the ten o’clock news, and you’re this close to dying, and you’re this close
to
fading
away,
fading into the lines on his chest, into his mouth, don’t cut your knees on the halo, my dear, it’s not time for the sacrifice yet.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:10 AM UTC
you wonder what she’s thinking when she looks at you like that, talks to you
like that, tells you *it’s not me, it has never
been
me* - but shivers.
****** teeth. wrists, with the skin pulled back. open
mouths. open
veins.
these are the things that slip, these are the things that
we hold open, open, waiting for the words to come out, waiting for the
truth to come out, waiting for something to touch, something real,
something that can’t be touched
by fire, or her fingers, if there’s a difference.
you said pull over, you said
wait. her, the fire. her, laid out on the table, palms forward, feet
together. her, something real, something to shiver to.
do you remember, she says, *what happened? do you remember tearing
me apart, ripping
the paper open, waiting
for the surprise, the scare, the audience roar? do you
remember
what it did to me?*
you remember. you see an aftermath, aftermath of something,
aftermath of remembering, aftermath of
waiting.
these are games that children play on summer days. these are the things
that we hold open, and she keeps dancing - stop dancing. stop
moving.
stop
waiting.
close the wound.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC