this is not poetry.
this is the sound a heart makes when you swallow it whole
this is the taste of bile in your mouth
this is saccharine-sweet cancer
(all razor-edge smiles that catch to bleed you dry)
this is the crack of your spine
this is the ars(c)enic route to hell
this is the twist of your lips when you hold in your sobs
this is a love song in a language you'll never understand
this is a funeral dirge for happiness
this is your blood, or is it mine
this is your heart, or is it mine
this is where we join
forces this is my rib cage plucked out to leave my
chest unprotected this is your cue
to leave me this is a swimming pool of viscera just
like you always wanted this is the coffee gone cold this is
your love grown old and this is
not poetry
this is your requiem.