one: playing dentist on a friday afternoon in your bedroom, watching the sun splay stripes on the carpet through your venetians—i filled every gap in your teeth with wads of faded pink bubblegum that i chewed for hours on end (and kept rolled up in the wrapper in my right pocket for the next time i wanted on impulse to bite out a chunk of your skin), and i told you that every time i kissed you now i could taste sugar, just like it was meant to be.

two: i watched my saliva settle glistening on your lips and it called to mind de-saturated pictures, polaroid-quality, of a deer's heart exposed, trembling, glossy and soft: eyes shining with pure lack of life. i fought to keep down *****, just a little—a hushed war on the edge of reason.

[two point five: when i touch you i try so hard to find the pink and not the red.]

three: i got into bed with you. i lost.