last night i flew over
seven seas that seemed as one
to you
on battered, ****** wings
& you thought i looked ****.
you like women ragged & jagged-edged
with souls as severed as your own,
hoping to find one whose broken
pieces fit snug to yours, but
you're so stupid:
this is the hoarding of shattered glass.
you hold me, don't flinch when i
hold your gaze and cut you deeper than anyone
has ever pressed before. i say 'sorry'
but there's no need to explain;
you already know why
: i'm hard to handle.

last night (your yesterday)
you felt me long before my
feet lifted off and you
waited, long before my
restless wings wandering soul
knew where i was going, exactly.
the door was closed but the
window was open, i slunk through
huddled beneath the frame
sodden and soaking the floor. pitiful
desperate vulnerable thing but i
think that's what you loved me for:
you think you're **** and unworthy
and here is one that crawls to you, begs
for you to touch her and lays her head
on your knees to sleep.

i think that's what you loved me for.