Maddening that it makes you feel pure
the security of your damp, decrepit sanctuary
and your empty, stomach churning words.
A pathetic refuge for you and your damage.
I’d set fire to your home
if I thought it would phase you.
I’d run sandpaper across your tongue
if you wouldn’t revel in the pain.
Unsettling how it doesn’t feel the same now
when you pull my hair
or the pace of your pulse.
A growing distance that you crave.
I’d banish you to the cosmos
if they wouldn’t bring you peace.
I’d gauge out your adoring eyes
if you wouldn’t turn them into art.

A near tragedy
at the hands of silk
stymied by fight,
maybe flight.
A failed departure
fastened to an exit
where drive met physics.
A heroic gut holding out
for a worthwhile loss.
One that creeps into your throat,
rips your chest,
burns your tear ducts.
A pain I’d much prefer.

You offered me a flower
     to place behind my ear
     and keep long after drying

You offered me a drawing
     the most beautiful I've ever looked
     myself through your eyes

You offered me sustenance
     for everything I needed
     everything I craved

You offered me a solid place
     to rest my bitter, busy head
     and lay down bare

You offered yourself to me, fully
     and for once I didn't hesitate
     to take and take and take

     and give myself to you