Do you still love me?
Does it matter?
The bright light from the stone ceiling making a
spotlight for it.
Speaking in tongues, sea foam replacing teeth and
dribbling down your chin. What a picture you make,
all false-fire-alarm and unsaid gonna make you beg.
Writhing like dancing, tastes like strawberry jam,
smeared over the hot white column of your throat,
dipping into your belly, a bit resting on the shin,
Then a hasty escape, millions of shingles making
roads of roof for you to speed down.
Calm down. It's just a dream, darling.
You're more apple jelly than anything.
It's not a knife's edge. That's too clean. It's more like
poison, all: Vomit your heart out, love. You'll feel better.
The core of this: I hate you for what you did.
I'm tired of pulling your teeth. You can lead a horse
to water, but you can't make it drink. You can lead a
horse to water and force it down the throat, hoping
too much won't spill from the mouth.
Tell me something. Did you expect this?
Tell me something, anything.
I counted the ceiling tiles in school.
I counted the seconds you'd hold my eye.
1
The core of this: I miss you.