guts pile over white
sheets and blankets.
i spilled them to you
last night
and you still said
i looked lovely
a black sticky stain.

how many chemicals
can your stomach handle
before you have to drown me?
how much
can you swallow?

   ~~~

you are my
cream and sugar, darling.
and it kills me when you
can't see that

i am a bitter, dark roast
cold autumn breezes
and sunless skies
but if i could keep you
breathing, my world might be
a little more alive