for the fifth time this month
you say you’re going to leave him
he calls you a cunt over the phone
then walks the three miles to your house
and kisses your mouth until the word is just
a place on your body.
i don’t know what brings broken people together
maybe damage seeks out damage
the way stains on a mattress halo into one another
the way stains on a mattress bleed into each other.
I don’t want anything from him except his red apple heart. Something I can bite into quickly without making a mess.
If you asked him,
he’d claim he’s never met anyone
kinder, so please don’t say anything
All I want from him is his love. The fruit of it. The sweet stuff. All I want is to keep it inside of me and then move along, because I don’t like being touched more
than I liked being looked at.
Is it so terrible that I want to be bigger than him? That I don’t want to want more than I need from a person? I don’t think that’s bad, but people keep telling me to apologize for chewing with my mouth open, so what am I supposed to do with a whole heart in there?
How am I going to eat it quietly?
Just give me the thing with no hands so that I can go to sleep without them around my neck.
I don’t want the body of love like I used to. I don’t want to be kissed.
Well, maybe I do, but not now.
When I close my eyes, I’m a statue
that he wants to run his tongue over.
When I close my eyes, I cut it off
and keep it.