Recently,
my mind has been making up stories
in my dreams about you.
They're filled with smiles and sincerity
that wrap your intentions in that
precious sparemint aroma
I was so sure I had already forgotten.
But when the dust settles and
the rubble begins to block my view
from any sight of sanity,
I hope your fingertips begin to callous
and burn through your ******* smirk
for the sake of every time you
traced patterns across my thighs;
when silence greets your ears
in the dead of the night
I hope your breath falls short
for the sake of every time you took mine away.
If you meant to cover me in paper cuts,
it seems only fair for you
to swallow the pain you left behind.

gd