I haven't had enough
time yet. The bruise
from canine teeth
and the ones you left
around
my wrist, are still
sore with promises
and insincere 'I love you's'.
Fresh like grape vines
and still burning with ire
and holes in cement walls.

I still want to kiss you
and tell you it will all be
what it will be in the end.
But throwing lovers
to the floor, like rag dolls
doesn't make black
and navy blue a better
combination.

I sit around and scrap
little waxy bumps off of
my face and neck
with homegrown nails
that look acrylic
and as they drag
across my skin
I fight and force
memories to play
hide and go seek
like cutting scenes out
of movie reels.

Don't breathe
you'll only whisper
lyrics of songs
that weren't written
for you and I.