Night. All over his body.
Lithium lingers on the tongue.

Slow motion crawl into bed,
nothing for dinner except sleep.

His gaze. Colder than
the chill of a refrigerator.

He tells me he’d rather die
than **** me tonight.

Grabbing the fat that clings
under my chin, he tells me,

“Once I learn to love myself,
I promise I’ll love you next.”