She stands there,
simply,
cocking her head like
a dog.
She doesn’t understand
the glare of your eyes or
the dip of
the corners of your mouth.
She is innocent,
staring at her Converse,
toes turned in,
hips jutted out.
She twiddles her thumbs,
pulls at her shirt,
just so her eyes don’t
have to meet yours.
You take her in
your arms, but
she pushes you
away,
taking with her
the perfume smell of
gardenias that
you miss.

You, my good man,
are vain.
With your swaggering walk
and the way you dress,
you think that any
woman would swoon
at the sight of you.
But all they do is stare at your
suit-clad self and your huge
goofy grin.
If you think they’re impressed,
your designer sunglasses must be
blocking out their snarls.
You think your voice is to women
like a flute is to a snake,
a lure.
The truth is hidden in the
knot of your tie,
behind the dark lenses of
your sunglasses,
the spot where your
tongue meets
your teeth.

Your life is a story.
The spine is cracked,
pages are missing,
but no space is left
vacant.
Each chapter holds every
tear, every ****** knee,
every night spent alone.
They quote the thoughts and
conversations you wish you
had forgotten,
the screams and the
hand gestures,
every bad name you've called
yourself since you were ten,
all of it branded to the
pages in black ink.
You wish you could burn
it all like you
used to burn your thighs.
You don't remember the
pages you crumpled up
and threw away,
the eskimo and
butterfly kisses,
the summers you spent
by his side.
You lost your best friend's
laugh and the smell of
chocolate chip cookies.
You closed your eyes to the
beauty you always had,
the smile that was always yours,
the feeling of a pen writing out
your story.

"how bout a goodnight kiss?"
maybe if i had another sip of the liquid jolly rancher
or maybe if it had
been a
dream.
your callused hands were never mine to hold.
please, don't stare at me,
i need a place for this bucket of salt,
and you need a doctor for your wounds.
(i can't lick them up anymore)
"just a peck on the cheek, okay?"
still too much.
(i saw your heart throbbing in the flesh)
the sticky red, under my fingernails
persistent,
like you.
i was never yours.
i was never
yours.

hush, hush,
keep your rumbling down. let us not wake him!
he has no idea of this.
oh, this started so long ago, i cannot even remember
the first time i touched your heat,
tasted your iniquitous liquid.
i kept coming back, for one more sip, one more
sniff of your lip-smacking aroma.
oh, how my glands moisten at the mere thought of you!
how my nerves tremble without you.
so, shhh, shhh,
my joe, my java, my jesus.
keep your whistling down, my lover sleeps.
but tonight, we’ll share
another taste in my favorite mug,
we’ll swim in your bitter ocean

you said my skin was
cinnamon.
i wonder if it
tasted like it too.
your skin was cigarette ash & *****.
my tongue is thick with it.