I unpacked your boxes too quickly. I exposed the whiteness of your thighs freckled by the reddish-brown hairs I uncovered the wrinkles in your blue iris the lies and tears behind your front teeth evenly crooked
I wanted your words to flutter from your mind but they dropped from your throat to the floor I wanted your laughter in your core to be kind but it came from a shallow, envious drawer
I pulled strands and veins out of boxes Found bundles and tangles that I assumed should be unraveled but when I pulled and twisted one straight, you left in your car with a crunch in the gravel Drove straight into the arms of Malbec wine at low rise tables with one chair, an excerpt from a novel bent at the spine and the sweater you never let me wear
I drank from the pint glass you brought home for me and it wasn't a statement. I wore no mask. I simply sipped. It's only meaning to transport water to my lips Calmly, coating my belly So slowly I'd wait Imagining water burning like ***** Barreling down my throat like an interstate
I wanted it back the feeling of feeling the fear that walks with revealing the love, the artist, and the lunatic all cooked together and left to steep
I pulled out my own strands the ones anchored deep. I worked endlessly to straighten You wrapped yourself in my veins to tightly You were trapped in the bundle so you ran, then came a stumble forgetting that I was anchored too and so you pulled me right down with you.
And I left you there with your tearful stare I bunched up these strands and laid out my demands I carried them off, the tangled mess You once announced was yours to hold but you overestimated yourself and watched me become cold A block of ice, you could never melt you were not all, you were not my wealth you were only the weight I felt.