l i k e      t h e      g l a s s
bottles on my bookshelf
you havemade yourself
a permanent  and dusty
home. i used to hate the
smell  of   my   skin  and
the shape of my   mouth
butyouhaveneverlooked
at me  like i am anything
less than a human being,
anything less than  gold,
anything less than   god.
i   have been yours since
we were fifteen,    i have
been     yours    since we
w e r e             f i f t e e n.

i am passing days with only
the slightest       misstep that
before would  have brought
me to            my           knees.

Behind these metaphors
I want you literally

modest mouse tastes like you
and i wonder how you could
have left such a stain running
down my throat
down my right forearm
maybe i should just get the
color tattooed into my skin the
way it wants to be but would
it bleed into the marks
from her
and him
and him
did i bruise them the same way
do they walk through life with
my name etched into their
elbows or trailing down the
length of their spines or have
they covered it up with sweaters
and bandaids
what did i leave with you
besides the last remaining shreds
of my tattered sanity
is there any residue of my laugh
lingering on the curve of your
bottom lip or do you smell my
shampoo on your pillows
have you found my name
on you have you found my
name on you have you
found my name on you