he used to range off-key
on nights he'd sing to me
and i?
well i'd fake a smile
and pretend to not account for
the fire running my spine
that never let me whisper to his lobes
"you're doing fine"
i just couldn't lie
to a face like a shelter dog's
and he'd lay next to me
sawing logs
as if he couldn't even be bothered to dream
as if all screens are unwelcome
when what you're trying to stitch is a sail
another night time nice guy
with a needle between his teeth
faking bonds between the bed sheets
those sheets though?
those sheets got me
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
he used to range off-key
on nights he'd sing to me
and i?
well i'd fake a smile
and pretend to not account for
the fire running my spine
that never let me whisper to his lobes
"you're doing fine"
i just couldn't lie
to a face like a shelter dog's
and he'd lay next to me
sawing logs
as if he couldn't even be bothered to dream
as if all screens are unwelcome
when what you're trying to stitch is a sail
another night time nice guy
with a needle between his teeth
faking bonds between the bed sheets
those sheets though?
those sheets got me
you left a good few scars, a relatively crooked-set jaw, and a woman strong enough to know it wasn't worth it.
Request permission to use this poem