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RMatheson Jul 2014
My top and bottom incisors do not meet
the wall of your big toe between them,
my enamel spades crushing against your nail bed so gently,
perforating your toes’ soft bottoms so exquisitely.

My tongue slowly dances with your toes,
the ridges above and the arch below the foot,
you flinch at the tickle.

My mouth dancing like an anemic acrobat,
it finds his way along the high-wire of your fishnet guarded legs,
their pale contrast to the red cloth exciting.

Suddenly, you shudder as the muscle in my mouth finds
your flesh exposed above the stocking line,
I am a conquistador and I have discovered a new land – I will subjugate it,
taking it’s precious jewels and spices,
consuming them and getting fat with the richness that is this New World before me.

I devour you so slowly – is my mouth even moving?
It is leaving a trail,
slightly damp like a dehydrated slug,
a leech ******* each piece
until the bleached skin becomes en-crimsoned by the bruises
my biting and ******* have made.
Will you try to hide them?
I move on to places where this disguising will not be a concern, and you begin to spasm.

I’ve hung myself on these gallows,
and so having to die because of it,
I will relish it;
an abandonment atrocity of aestheticism.
RMatheson Jul 2014
My star went supernova
and burned away all the love from the face of the Earth.
RMatheson Jul 2014
Just like in the movies,
I'm running to her,
just like I had dreamed.

She opens herself once again,
like the light playing through the blinds
yellow fingertips creating shadows,
I enter you.

This reunion...
happily ever after all the things
we have been through,
and I am here again in your body,
the only place I ever felt I honestly
belonged...

But this isn't the movies.
There is no reunion.
There is only a pale black noose
and my life is
on the
edge.
RMatheson Jul 2014
Just a tiny spot that grew
into the crevices of our love,
a mushroom-blue fungus
spreading mycelium tendrils through

It's only been a week
trust me, I know

I've been counting the suffering seconds
while you are away, having your life there with
no responsibilities
no work
no job
no cares
(for me, even?)
no schedules

I count these seconds still as you tell me how tired you are
(doing nothing)
how there's little time to talk
in my spare time from the job I work at seventy-hour weeks,
(the one you said I needed to save our marriage)
and how the frustrations of a bad connection
mean more to you
than I do,
anymore.

So I hope you sleep well,
I hope the fact that you can show no care for
a person who cares for you more than themselves,
doesn't keep you up.

I hope your beautiful head is sleeping soundly
as I am sleepless,
waiting for your answer.
RMatheson Jul 2014
I am waking up in tears every morning
our songs echoing through my head
covered in sweat,
shirt soaked through,
hair on end like I've been swimming in the bath of
warm water and
memories
we drew over nearly a decade.

I'm spinning out of control and
I don't know if I can remember how to be a good husband anymore.

But mostly, I just miss you
like the desert misses the rain,
and just like that metaphor,
I am becoming a ******* cliche.
RMatheson Jul 2014
I'm not asking for much...just a
sliver of something to
hold onto.

I only want someone to love me
when we are old,
for the things they loved me for,
when we were young.
RMatheson Jul 2014
I cycle,
as little as possible
much more than I'd like
thinking of you
feeling you
wrecking myself
wishing this life would end
wishing this feeling would never end
alarming myself
at how fast
I cycle.
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