thinking that an
i love you
after hurting me
is the same as an
apology is abusive
husband logic.

i will never close my mouth
to your table scrap i love you's.

you only keep me around for
that leashed dog loyalty:

like a mutt at your feet, all that
matters is that you don't kick me.

you taught me that
there is more than one way
to apologize in spanish, and
that meaning is often lost in
translation.

it sets my mind to wonder
which parts of you have been
willfully tucked away, like money
in our mattress, and what is
just lost in translation.

bipolar, brass knuckle baby,
pretty eyed prince of el paso:
i've listened to you weep in
spanglish

and i would wade through that
river of dead women just to feel
closer your grandmother, that
oval faced polaroid girl who knew
her birthright and had the grip
strength to take it.

i've wrestled
with this burning
coin for a decade
now;

held over candlelight
by grandmothers and
teenage charlatans alike,
****** into the soft tissue
of my naive mouth.

find someone who adores you,
[OR]
find someone you adore.

such irony and tragedy
in the context of love:
the age old lament of one
without the other.

your logic is that of which
elegies are written from.

i'm spitting it out, but let
the scar tissue remain.