We used to sit in your parent's basement
with your two dogs on their little beds
in the corner by the old desktop computer,
wooden hand-me-down grandmother cabinetry,
lace doilies underneath all the candles
on the coffee table. I made you turn out the lights.
We would sit there and pretend
that we could find something better to do
than kiss between commercials
or talk about all the things we used
to dream about in high school, how I
got mine and how yours were like
the back bumper of a car that got left
out in the rain too long-- a little rusty.

Your kissing was a little rusty,
but I let it go because you didn't make fun
of me ordering a double grilled cheese
on our first date. You also didn't judge
when I got drips on my dress
from my ice cream cone. I can still
remember the way you'd yell at me
for stopping too far out at intersections,
laughing how I was gonna get us killed
one day, but I think
you just really loved to hear me sing
over you. I think you really loved

me, and here I was playing teeter
totter on curbs in little jean shorts
with a guy who gave me a slice
of leftover pizza. Here I was, burning
down your own ambitions because
they didn't seem as glittery as my own,
because you didn't quite match all the sketches,
all the plans I had on my map. Because
if we were to draw straws I always thought
you would come up a little short.
I think you really loved me and I left you
like a penny in between that couch
we used to sit on.

His love for her is a ticking time bomb,
tick,
tick,
tick,
she sees his fuse is lit,
yet can't let go of it,
wants so bad to feel his shot of ******,
knowing that if she doesn't let go it will be her death,
she plays in fantasy land where his bomb never existed,
he is the perfect man in her vision,
down to his smelly feet and his snoring like a lawn mower that keeps her up,
when he's there even the holocaust wouldn't matter,
She only craves more,
He is her drug,
this land is all she has every dreamed of,
He's her prince charming and she is his princess,
his touch is tantalizing and when he holds her it's euphoric,
she was never so at ease yet so intimidated,
outside this fantasy land part of her knows his last drop of ****** will detonate this bomb with the fuse in her hand,
He is her choice of poison,
Her strand of ******,
She is an addict,
Her slow suicide is worth it for that small warm touch of euphoria he holds,
He is the only thing that makes her still feel alive,
Yet, he will be her death,
tick,
tick,
tick,
ticking time bomb I know you are there,
please this one time please,
skip a beat and let her live happily ever after in fantasy land.