Her eyes were pleading, as if to say
“I wish I had corrupted more people”,
As if she had clambered into others and left
Roses instead of decaying steel,
Roses that would disintegrate into the wind.
Constellations of frozen glances
I so lovingly photographed and watched
Fade through the icy glass of photo frames.
A blazing pattern of fire
Streaking across the unblinking eyes on my wall.
Scorch marks, blackened over time.
I miss the heat from the stove,
On the nights of adventures in deck chairs,
Watching, or not, movies in blankets of ourselves.
Seeing you receive slopping kisses from man’s best friend,
You were; you are mine.
A stem numb from growth,
Suffocated by a lack
And they pick you apart:
With the childish glee of
Pouring salt on snails,
Of picking the wings off moths.
A rat looking for the best scraps
Catches its own reflection in a mirror
Above a heap of
Every chip in your nail, a pill
You’ve taken to see just how fast
You can swallow a bottle.
They see the untrimmed split ends,
Tearing, ripping in half,
Selling you out:
“Unfinished, unkept, unwanted”.
The yellow stained teeth of verbal acid
Foam at the corners of their blue lips.
A rat confused, walks into glass
Again and again;
Thuds on a bloodied mirror.
They ask you who you are,
They already know.
You become them, or they’ve always been you.
A rat turns and eats itself whole.
I miss you in a haze of tea,
Or maybe champagne.
A peculiar loss, I
Stripped of not freedom
But opportunity as blinding as a strobe.
I never loved you, but I loved how
You smelled: of the first time I dove off a cliff.
Tasted of my first cigarette.
You would appear with no shirt,
Calling out slurred fragments of words as broke as the wooden rafters.
Or maybe you were in a navy blue blazer
With golden rings framing each button,
Covering your make believe problems with a
Too-good-to-believe French accent.
I miss you in the throbbing mornings,
Almost transparent in a coating of
So you’re gone and I can’t touch you.
I can’t breathe in a different choice,
Can’t sing a rhyme and have my future decided.
But I replaced you; destroyed you
An elbow unfolds, an open hand awaits
As a expectant palm mirrors a generic greeting
Escaping from your tongue.
First impressions expire but maybe if I freeze them
In my mind I’ll be able to keep them for longer.
I didn’t love you from the start,
Lets play a game, I challenged myself,
A game I needed to win.
I needed to have the breath sucked out of me,
Remember the ripping of my lungs from my chest.
I wanted to give the stale air,
Give all of it away to someone who would keep it
In memories of throwaway flirtations.
So I played,
Played so well it was worthy of Odysseus,
I played to be worthy of a second glance.
Romanticizing the decrepit need for attention,
Undeserving became admirable.
I never loved you at all, I just needed
So I’ll defrost you and you’ll rot
Next to an imperishable impression I’ll always keep.
You – I didn’t love you from the start either.
You were a game I wanted to win, but I didn’t.
Or perhaps I did, intoxicated I tripped,
Out of the running. Out of the game.
I love someone:
His curled yellow pages, his
Twisted edges molding into
Blinding white sheets behind uneven print.
A shoebox, a toothbrush, a jar,
The smell of a letter,
My relentless adhesive.
When the title fades the words lose meaning the syntax fails.
Bury the pages in the dirt
watch something grow from your story.
Unfurl the petals of your diction,
preserve them in a dictionary,
weave them between your fingers
stitch them into your palms.