“I love you,”
You whisper
As the conversation comes to a conclusion.
Remind me one more time
Before you leave again
Because the silence likes to whisper about you.
“She hates you.”

They randomly see each other.
At the store.
At the gas station, farmer's market.
She is irked by how much he thinks she's "into him"
That ego. Smh
He is intrigued by her willingness to not give into him.
She really digs him.
He will never know that though.
They'd have one another in a heartbeat
If the stubborn and pride disappeared
He greets her with a cheeky grin.
"Hello love of my life, please tell me you're looking for me?"
She rolls her eyes and speaks true sass, "does your head ever get..ya know...too heavy?"
He will play dumb to continue hearing her voice, "what do you mean?"
"Your head...well I suppose it's full of air. Can't be too heavy."
His chuckle is genuine for her cute lil evil smirk claiming her victory.
He steps in front of her, asking for more, "Are you following me then?"
She replies with hands on her hip, "oh please. I haven't seen you in 2 weeks. Get over yourself."
As much as he likes the sight of her winning, he whispered, "As long as you're under me, love."
He winked and she left.



I hope it's not the end.
      


                                              «c.h.b.»

What can I say?
You didn't read the warning label.

Dangling from the ceiling, fluorescence like drunken accents dripping from the tongue, the fallacies we fashion into stars and let hang in our eyes, etc etc.

You know the story. You were there,

how in that light,
we almost looked human,

the city screaming around us, the dusty night engulfing everything.

I mean, even zippers have teeth,

so slam the window shut. Slam the door. Slam and slam and slam until my name doesn't matter anymore,

your eyes like the barrel of a gun, your eyes like headlights.

I'll be doing the same,

taking pictures out of their frames. It feels different that way, a naked memory.

doing the laundry, cutting up the furniture, spotlights for the spotlights. I know

you liked to think yourself a martyr for our love. I wish someone would've shut you up,

the skin in my teeth from chasing my own tail. You never forget the taste of blood.

*******, darling.
I have more important things to feel guilty about.

Do you still love me?

Does it matter?

The bright light from the stone ceiling making a
spotlight for it.

Speaking in tongues, sea foam replacing teeth and
dribbling down your chin. What a picture you make,
all false-fire-alarm and unsaid *gonna make you beg.  

Writhing like dancing, tastes like strawberry jam,
smeared over the hot white column of your throat,
dipping into your belly, a bit resting on the shin,

Then a hasty escape, millions of shingles making
roads of roof for you to speed down.

Calm down. It's just a dream, darling.
You're more apple jelly than anything.

It's not a knife's edge. That's too clean. It's more like
poison, all: ***** your heart out, love. You'll feel better.

The core of this: I hate you for what you did.

I'm tired of pulling your teeth. You can lead a horse
to water, but you can't make it drink. You can lead a
horse to water and force it down the throat, hoping
too much won't spill from the mouth.

Tell me something. Did you expect this?
Tell me something, anything.

I counted the ceiling tiles in school.
I counted the seconds you'd hold my eye.
1

The core of this: *I miss you.

God's foxholes,
pick your poison,
burn burn burn, and
snare, flesh out an idea
and let it take hold. grit
your teeth, strip the bark
or just strip instead.
cherry, rabid, dragonflies
and headlight eyes.
this dream running us
ragged, this glittering
copper and boil before
you burst.

There is a piece of your skin that refuses to burn.
I keep sinking my teeth into it.