I steal love with

the

part of my lips,

the

fall of my chin,

the

reverence in my temples,

//

so I scoff with

my

unblessed prayer,

my

impossible keeper,

my

wretched skin,

my

faultless pleasure,

//

and grace swoons,

puts me back in my place,

mutters sin in my mouth,

tightens grip in my hips,

stokes flame in my skin,

//

threads pain

inside,

weaves mind

inside,

names fear

inside,

makes more

inside,

//

and I am unfeeling of pardon,

unwanting of heaven,

ungoverned by god,

not bothered, on purpose,

not waiting on mercy,

//

and I stand with the evil,

the blind,

the kind,

the pained

and the stained,

and steal love with them,

because

//

we are unneeded by hell.

—
his eyes are calamitous


and he twitches as

his lashes sink in his skin
to whip at his cheek
and peel away his lids
—


his iris wobbles from the shockwave


and his scleras are greyed in trauma

and his brow crumbles, too


for some remission
—

and when his violent eyes close
he repents behind them
—

his descent is final
as they open just once more

and his lashes rise in suspension
—

<>
When he throws you                 at the wall,
and hugs you
and bites you
and screams in you
and kisses you,


let it be back then,

when she threw you                on the floor,
and stomped your filling
and snapped your stitching
and sliced your corners
and kissed you.
<>

Tighten your throat
and you can go to bed again.
<>