to be loved as if for once it were-ever delicate a thing
with hands that believe still in,
non-bolting-limbs
lips that
or teeth
a heart that speaks
then means how it sings

cause I know even in my arms -
you had somewhere else to be

incessant ranting lambs to my left
belting as white as my heat
and
it was always that first

that first
a n d  t h e n
me

I endeared patience, worshiped it
but this-
like a prison sentence
& I pray waiting were an option
I scream opposed until my nose bleeds
until I fall asleep

am I calling it love now that everything's turned red ?
cause I liked the liking more;
the blues and greens
the build up
so dumb me down before I hear those words again /
a three word representation of an ending;  "i  l o v e  y o u"
like eight little machine guns pointed at my chest, screaming:
*don't move or i'll shoot