i find myself watching your mouth.
i can almost taste your taste.
i can almost feel the soft graze of your lips
on my neck

if i really think about it hard enough...
i can feel our teeth clack in a rough kiss.

sometimes i find myself watching your hands.
they stir up dreams so vivid they could pass for memory.

...rough calused man's hands.
hands that could handle my fury.
hands that could set the world on fire.

what would they feel like?
such rough hands feeling out
the softest parts of me.

i imagine those hands in my hair...

nothing is worse,
than thinking thoughts
you know
you shouldn't be thinking...

you try and shut them up,
try and cut them off mid-sentence.

alas,
this just makes them scream more.

they echo.

...and the very thing that makes them thoughts that you shouldn't be thinking, is the thing that makes them
stick.

the horror you feel
for that one second,
gives them new life...

...turns them from fleeting thoughts,
to secrets
that must be kept.

i knew a girl who wore scars like medals.
she woud tell me awful stories about
awful things that happened in her awful life...

She always told them with a wide joker's grin.
Her waxy lipstick red lips stretching and curving
into a smile that held hate and tears and years
of not so funny laughter.

Sometimes she told me stories,
like all that hurt,
all that shame,
all those horribul
horribul things...were such a
laugh.