I exist in the corners of your lips,
Self-centered, You.
Possessive and hoggish, I.
Your lashes are conceived there, in the cracks.
Your thoughts are just as chapped.
Cheapened, perhaps.
I would still perish to kiss you.
Spill my tacit words into your mouth.
I could taste the restraints weeks ago.
They were loud and young and doltish.
We both sipped them anyway.
A sample of suffering,
For a marked down pact.
Now I am dirt under your fingernails.
Embarrassed by the rust of my tomorrows,
My maybes, my next weeks.
I never even saw your smile, though.
I bet it feels like corrosion.
Then theres you.
You that makes me infirm.
I am afraid of myself, but you arent.
I have grown accustomed to being macerated and **** out.
Your silence speaks in ******* volumes.
Chest sunk into spine.
Lungs inflated into ribs that refuse to budge.
Oxygen thicker than soup.
Throat tight like I wished your hands were around it.
Empty cups know more about my emotions
Than my eyes do.
Jet black strands of hair are assassins.
I was a center piece.
For your antique table.
And you disintegrated before you even finished
Watching me hemorrhage.
I would have loved ******* you.
But I would have loved the sound of you turning in our sheets
Even more.
Maybe I should drink some more, because I am not a p o e t.