If
Morrison
says-so

I'd
consider
it.

he keeps asking
why
I don't write
about him

my dear,
my sweet darling,
it is because
you
do not cause heartache
and pain
like the others did

I do not know
how
to write
when I am in love

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

She asks,
      how can you be happy
      living in this
      no bedroom *******
      that somehow gets smaller
      with every sigh?
      We weren’t supposed
      to be these people,
      happily moving hot air
      from one place to the next.

We are like mannequins now
      every aching minute together
same faces and no new words.