again it has happened,
that radio silence, that
perfect broken brilliance;
so familiar, so threatening,
that hum of anxious breaths
and tongues and chests,
my glass has shattered
again and the blood has
filled the floor and i
step towards you too eager
to kiss the wounds
on your feet and ankles
and pray to god you
kiss me back and you do;
there is a nineteen-year-old
inside whose heart begins
to burst but there is a grown
woman out here pretending to
be into this tragedy
this destruction of naivety
this stranger who continues
to call himself my friend;
maybe one day he'll mean it
the definition of insanity is doing things over and over and expecting a different result
