I thought if I moved halfway across the world,
you'd stay embedded in my bed sheets back home.
I thought your looks would stay locked in my desktop,
and you'd never follow me here.
And you didn't.
You stayed, and you flourished.
I left, and I'm failing.
I'm searching for meaning in strangers' beds,
and green bottles, swearing to hold light in them,
lightening my head, and lighting my body on fire.
Hands grabs and claw at my flesh,
never my soul.
Who I am can't please them.
I only want to please you,
To wrap myself inside you and find nothing but
citrus scents, sweat, and affection.
You wrapped threads around my rib cage,
and masterfully pulled the strings until my bones ripped out.
The worst sensation is the carelessness with which you handle them.
They stack up in a pile in your basement.
You ignore them, unintentionally now.