you'll feel like he's staring into all the deep crevices on
your skin, all of the deepest intrusions that make you trust him,
but he's just looking at the purple bruise on your arm,
   something the cat dragged in, he'll say.
you'll laugh but that all-white teeth-showing is laced with
    something buried deeper than any self-dug grave.

most of the time when he's near, you'll feel like some kind
of fresh meat, trouble is, you don't realize he's this beautiful
  white tiger with black stripes and blue eyes,
    and while he looks at you, you don't wonder about how he'll
eat you up and spit you back out again.

heaven knows how much women like the broken boys,
and let me tell you, they're all the same,
  your therapist will tell you, putting out her cigarette and smoke dangling
     from her lips.