I remember sitting down on the bus
As it pulls out to leave the stop
You wave at me through the window
With a misty look in your eyes
As though you regret this, us
I tuck my hair behind my ear sheepishly
Lips still tasting of your sweet lust
I can still remember how you softly yet firmly pushed yours onto mine
My neck, burning at the red marks
That you placed there as a sign of dominance over me
I was always yours
But you was never mine

The gentle lines of the coarsest neck
Where the vitals fall in line,
Where breath is held so restlessly,
The first sip of chilly wine.

The shaky fingertips that graze,
Calloused, but seeking gospel
Leaving me covered in the words of
Your author and your novel.

Knobby knees that knock when
Worry scurries through your blood.
That hallow place behind
Where no one thinks to touch.

The portion of your foot that feels
The extremity of the ground.
How fast you're going will always tell
How long you stick around.

(Our souls are where we find them.)

You never remember the small
things like the way you sighed against
my neck and the hole in my shirt
and the hole in my heart
and the hole you left behind you.


F.Z.N

As I enter the room
my eyes are drawn
against all my will
to your hand
wrapped round
gently, firmly,
the guitar neck.

My own now feels cold
and bare.
Phantom fingers
stroke my skin
as I watch the real form
perfectly placed.

I imagine your touch.
Each finger makes a different note.
Make me sing.

It was as common as grey slacks on a pensioner
Though smelled much, much better,
The shampoo she used, that is.
Used in abundance my numerous others,
But
None did justice as she.
Tempting chocolate tendrils skirting down
Colliding with shoulder and nape of her milky, silky neck.
I have kissed her there,
Nuzzled,
Suckled and slept.
Blanketed by her scented threads of security.
A sort of role reversal.
The supposing weak protect the strong as they sleep
And dream of where they are.

YOUR ARMS WERE PRETTY FLOWERS TO BEGIN WITH, BUT THEN THEY WRAPPED AROUND MY NECK AND CHOKED ME

He's standing next to me now.
Just close enough for me to hear each pounding beat of his heart and feel the breeze of his breath.
With each inhale he takes it feels like he's ******* the life right out of me.
I become breathless.
I'm gasping just waiting for him to exhale so I can finally breathe again.
With each exhale I'm relieved of the pressure in my chest as if he's manually pumping my blood through my veins with his hands.
With each exhale I feel the warmth of his breath.
It is sticky and hot,
but he has a way of sending chills down my spine as he whispers icy cold words down my neck.