I wore your scent
like I couldn’t breathe
without it,
You threw me out
like week old garbage
collecting flies,
and what I can’t understand
is how somebody
can be everything one day
and forget your name
the next
because I’ll never forget yours.

Like rock,
and honey,
I pretend that I
am not “I”
until their fists find my face
pry open my mouth
and spit on my tongue
until I praise them
for letting me drink

because I still feel
their grubby hands,
with sweaty palms,
with fat fingers,
applying pressure
anywhere it hurts
the most

they seem to favor
my throat

Because I’m never enough
for anybody,
which of course
isn’t true
But they tell me
that it is
and I trick myself
into believing them
I must be
the worst kind
of *******.

I gave you me,
and you helped yourself
to seconds
and thirds,
as I mistook your sweat
for the taste of sunlight
baked into your skin;
so I covered my ears
like a child,
when they told me that
you were spoiled,

because I was faithful in the most obscene way.

His gambler’s tongue
struck every note,
played me too long

The pressure,
soft weight of your body -
the mass of your biceps and torso,
The tangle of my hair
when we wake and kiss
My fingers run over the skin of your back,
over your short, short hair,
emotional gratification,
the need -
my need to taste you again.

You sat on your throne,
A snake
coiled around your right hand
Hissin' and
strikin' at me
Until I ****** the sweat
Off of your fat, mob boss fingers