You used to say my eyes were beautiful right before
splitting me open, groin to gullet.

(Do you still think I’m pretty, baby? Don’t you wanna tell me how
sober I look? Don’t you miss my mouth?)

Eyes wide shut, I watched April disappear in a
blur of bite-sized catatonia.

(Tell me how good I feel. Don’t you miss my blood
on your sheets? Pin my arms back, baby, just for old time’s sake.)

The last time I saw you, you avoided my gaze.
I was lucid for that much.

(Oh, I know you can’t help yourself, baby.)

Tell me again how beautiful my eyes are, love.
We both know how much I like it rough.