I'm not sure if
drinking the poison
of other men is
helping me
dull the burn
of missing
you

if taking the glass of
red elixir to
my lips, holding my nose with a
pinch of my fingers,
closing my eyes, throwing my head back
and hoping the
blackened scorch of
you leaving me is
gone when I open
my eyes
with someone new
is working

I'm not sure
if waking up
with someone else's
pain-filled
core
who has
loves to forget,
hopes to nurse,
people who have
died and left them
behind is
adding to the
graveyard where
thoughts of you are
being pushed so deep
into who I am
and added to the
ground that
I call my body

My life is filled
with tombstones
of you and no other
man has been able
to dig you out
of me.