I’ll tuck the tears back behind my eyelids.
Keep them closed like the window on the fourth floor my mom always kept locked so I wouldn’t leap.

Your face fell between my thighs, cradled, rock-a-bye, never eat more than you can handle. Always use your forks and knives.

What is it
That noise you make
That soft hum so distinct
So full of distain
Disgust

Prayer

Scorn me, scorch me, sink your suckling teeth into me. But don’t you ever ******* say you love me.

How much of me do you not need?

Because when I offered you accepted everything willingly.

You stuffed your face with frivolity.

Selfishly gulped down my heart and with it my insecurities.

When you were finished, you gave your compliments to the chef and told me you never wanted any of it.

You put your head on my leg, weighing it down. But weight doesn’t make you stay. Weight doesn’t anchor you to the bay. Weight can keep you afloat, lighter than the water. Heavier than the waves. It can keep you warm during a winters storm. Safe from frigid contrasts. You put your head on my leg, weighing it down.

I cut it off and crawled away

I wish your sincerity would reverberate through me, bounce back and clothe you