if you pay eighty cents for a lover
don’t be shocked when he doesn’t call
his life doesn’t depend on it
and neither should yours
don’t be upset by the blank stare in his eyes
his supports aren’t deep enough and anyhow
all he’s known is hell
and soon enough it’s all that you will think
your weary heart has ever chanced upon as well
don’t be surprised by the rough feel of his lips
his countenance
those weathered hands have gripped more weapons of the body and mind
than you’ll ever need to know
and someday it will remind you of the way you
sometimes hold a pen
like it holds catharsis instead of ink
he’s known more causes of pain than
all the days you’ve lived alone
and you think you know depth
you’ve hardly covered your toes
wringing your hands like they’ll give you answers
like they’ll cast off the shadows that live in you now
sweet release is not for people like you
and you should know that by now.

-*k.c.