I watched you

**** and

get

******.

And as you withered in pleasure,

As your eyes rolled into the back of your head in

ecstasy,

I wondered

“how ******* high is she?”

How ******* high are

you?

I've found my happiness again. It's a bottle of Pinot Grigio in a bar that plays Billie holiday and Peggy Lee, where you can commandeer a seat at the bar that's not directly in front of a mirror.

Sinew by sinew, you stitch me under your skin.

Where I end and you begin is determined by your seam ripper, a tool you never seem to want to use.

And while you burry me deep inside you,

I carry you in plain sight, on my kneecaps, in brown and purple bruises.

In the un-dismissable dull ache that reminds me of you.

I may have not been built to kneel,

but maybe I can withstand your bend.

As much as I hate to ******* admit it, you look better than how I left you two years ago.

Do you think I do too? Probably not.

It’s weird how we can pick everything back up instantly– the stupid jokes, the long stares, the competition, the drunken fights and guilt trips.

You know it’s not a night until I end it screaming at you and slamming the door, leaving you. Again.

Standing next to you is like stepping into a time machine with hind-sight, and still wanting to make the same mistakes all over again. Except not really. (But really.)

You’re a **** head. But you’re my **** head. And I think it’s time for you to come home. Come home to where you belong.

In a cold car watching our breath rise up, talking about how a neuron in the brain is the same shape as an entire universe, then kissing me with the taste of another ******* your lips. You always picked sweet ones.

I promise not to get mad anymore. I learned how to pick up strangers’ scents too.

Now we don’t have to be alone when we’re together. We can both slowly **** ourselves, stuck together, in your trap house.

Hollow eyes stare into hollow soul, unrecognized.

You’ve forgotten who you belong to.

Or who you don’t.

If only I could describe the stain between my legs,

the bruises on my knees,

the smear on my heart.

You are hollow and empty,
Like bones without the marrow.

You spill promises all over yourself,
Like an expensive drink filled to the brim.
Sloshing and swelling,
You tell me exactly what you think I want to hear.

But no matter how hard I ****
And naw on those words,
They are still as empty as
Hollow bones.