I’ll conceal your shifting hands, Palms pressed, Calluses to torn cuticles, All thumbs and knuckles and nails, And I don’t know her, violet-scented creeping infestation and How you’ve worn me down, there’s a hole in my sleeve- And I’ve let you chew on me, sweat on me, I’ve I’ve kept you warm And You used me, You used me to conceal illicit activities, hands in pockets, shrugging eyes off, never been cigarettes in there, nope,
And you let her peel me off of you, the one with violet hands that weren’t so gentle, but violent, voracious, tearing in at you, as I watched from the floor she scratched the skin that I kept safe and warm, and and Why did you leave me crumpled on the floor and then And then let her take me home, draped over her bony shoulders to billow like a parachute, before she squeezed me half to death that night in her sleep?