Your hands are on her waist now and my head burns
Oh, these steady, even, licking flames that tickle the linings of my heart
The sky's gone black and blue tonight

And I think it's a little bit sad, isn't it
That the way your fingers kiss her skin sets me off
Like an alarm that was never unset
Even after our funeral came and came again,
And we all put away our condolences on a shelf that only I'm still keeping clean
And empty

When your mouth is on the lines of her neck, the curves of her mouth, on her
My heart implodes
An inky, sticky stain that drips down into my bone marrow like rain, a deep and apathetic life support
A midnight blue promise that streams into the bullet-holes in my shoes
Promise me that this is not what morning looks like

And I hope this is how you feel
Battered.

When I find hands to fall on me too, and I really hope someday that I might,
I hope your blood gets viscous and gets caught under the edges of your skin
Just black little blurs peeking out unabashedly from behind your paper-thin touch

We all fall down, but I collapse quietly
Beaten to a small, smiling carcass that you can put away on a shelf
Discard me until the Spring thrashes against the frozen ground and strangles our winter
I'll be here, despondent

Her skin is warm and clean, I suppose
Yours is not. The ash will find you too
And I'll be here.

Search all you want through the strands of her hair
You'll never find it
And morning may never find me again