My mind keeps pictures of you up on its walls
                            again
                         ­         and again
I find my thoughts drifting down that river of memory
orbiting around you, like forces of gravity drawn
to the idea of us (if there even is an us)

If I could then I’d lock you outside my brain, leave you out there to rot
in the abyss, where your words couldn't penetrate me
and your lips that work like anesthesia forbidden to numb me again

I won't do you the injustice of romanticizing your imperfections
You're no nebular, you're a black hole, a gaping flaw in creation
Your eyes that held millenniums of history, now hold me no future

You made me forget what it feels to have stability
To not walk out of a room and forget why I left
You make me want to shred the skin you touched
Like a reptile, to become reborn, purified from my past.

There never were any butterflies in your stomach, only parasites
but you fed them to me readily like a disease

So no, I won’t dedicate you another love poem
                 no I want (deserve) better
This isn't what love should be
I’ll write you a poem where the words convulse on the page
and you’ll forget to read it (you always do)

He's the dagger
twisted in my gut,
all the pretty words
dolled up with a
smile that is anything
but pure or true.

He's a spicy treat,
when all I'm looking for
is something sweet.

Perhaps it's wrong of
me, to search for love
in eyes that wander so
far I have to make
maps of their journey.

He has me falling
from the tallest crevices
with promises to catch
me with arms that are
already holding another.

He's a lost cause,
a candle blown out,
the stolen kiss that
was never returned.

But I'd bet all my
money on him within
a heartbeat if he said
he felt even a mere
shadow of what I did.

she slides her slender
white fingers down the
branches of his spine

her eyes melted like
glaciers and lips as soft
as freshly fallen snow

skin lustful, but heart
unforgiving, exhaling
his every intention

she is autumn in his
palms, her trees bare,
the leaves rust fallen

flashing indifference,
thoughts plucked in
shades of violent rose

My thoughts are contaminated with an unknown radiation
and the blood in my veins feels as if it has have been replaced
by toxic sludge.

There are ink stains on the bedding where my body rested
from the times were my quarantined mind was deprived of slumber, for further testing.