My blood changes blue to red like a stoplight from green to the sheets in your bed, the way you turn heads
and bite my teeth. We make war behind closed doors but love in the streets.
You got acquainted with the dim lights of this place, yet hated the way it traced its history into your face as your teeth grew heavy in your mouth.
There's a chill in my bones and I know that he knows, what its all about.
Sometimes I wish I could **** the man sleeping on my couch,
but I can't so I rip the tangles out of my hair and heart strings and I wear his flesh like a precious gold ring
And sometimes I wish I had more effective ways of coping instead of moping and self defeating and retreating to beating myself up until I fall,
because I hide in myself and is that even coping at all?
Tell me you're falling in love with the way I come home 3 hours late with flowers in my hair and the sun on my face,
the places where your hands swallow mine in an easier time
when my sinkhole eyes weren't the color of faded whites that had been washed with colors too much
and my lips weren't so frayed and chapped from the sting of your static touch.