He loves me when he loves me
He convinces me
I’m the kind who serves up suicide with every Ciroc poured
in the neon blue of this town
where dreams turn cold but where,
He says,
I,
I am as hot as the blue light flame
He opens the Pandora’s curiosity in me
With warm breath and a silent scream
he makes me say his name
I know there’s fiction in the space between us
covered in polyurethane that some would consider toxic
but where I,
I rub my flesh into the smooth and dip fingers into my inkwell
He makes me an artist
He has a way
Hurt me a little
Make me cry
Rubbing this little pendulum of mine
I want to know I knew you even before I knew you
Savor you like an oyster
Memorize you
Hold you under my tongue
Learn you by heart so when you leave
I can go to the inkwell, again
*Orlando