Always showing you my hand
and all my papercuts.
Asking you to cauterize
the ones that bleed too much.

But approach with caution
dogs on sidewalks
can be taught in
the art of biting people
who pet us not too often.

My words will keep on swinging
while my spine is strong.
And after that performance
it won't be too long
before you're gone.

'Til I won't find your legs in bed
no matter how far I'm reaching
And I won't learn a single thing
regardless who is teaching
Scrubbing all my skin away,
not clean unless it's bleeding.

Where would be the ceiling?
Cause I've cert'nly found the floor.
My chips are always all in
'til it's more than I'll afford.
Only willing to be vulnerable
once you've slammed the door.

What's more?

Is I haven't bled out yet.

A lifetime of fragile bones
taught me to put away
all sharp objects.

It's hard to be clever
when sometimes I wonder
if we should still be together.

It's hard to make a ****** pun
when I know
later in bed, there will be none.

It's hard to find rhymes
in the midst of my apathetic mind
when I know I have to beg,
when I'm feeling left behind.

All I can find at this time
are words with pieces
of my rotting heart,
words that only serve
at pushing us apart.

How about an empty card?

I spent this morning
giving myself a beating
about my face
            my hair
            my body
pinching pieces of fat
to find the one
that makes you not want me
then
I could take forbidden blades
and cut myself down
to the size
You wanted to feel inside
Your hands
to become the molded object
You would like to hold
again.

Most nights I still dream about you
About a face that I know
better than my own
Or used to.
I remember how you said you rarely dream
And I hope that's still true,
That you are granted the small mercy
of not seeing me
when you sleep.
Of not waking haunted
by your dreams.