Do you still love me?

Does it matter?

The bright light from the stone ceiling making a
spotlight for it.

Speaking in tongues, sea foam replacing teeth and
dribbling down your chin. What a picture you make,
all false-fire-alarm and unsaid *gonna make you beg.  

Writhing like dancing, tastes like strawberry jam,
smeared over the hot white column of your throat,
dipping into your belly, a bit resting on the shin,

Then a hasty escape, millions of shingles making
roads of roof for you to speed down.

Calm down. It's just a dream, darling.
You're more apple jelly than anything.

It's not a knife's edge. That's too clean. It's more like
poison, all: ***** your heart out, love. You'll feel better.

The core of this: I hate you for what you did.

I'm tired of pulling your teeth. You can lead a horse
to water, but you can't make it drink. You can lead a
horse to water and force it down the throat, hoping
too much won't spill from the mouth.

Tell me something. Did you expect this?
Tell me something, anything.

I counted the ceiling tiles in school.
I counted the seconds you'd hold my eye.
1

The core of this: *I miss you.