You damned me with your penchant for
only the smooth hollow of a quiet buttoned up body
resting now, untouched chalk and mortar
lain still so long, breath has left
I did not want to wake up
pretend to function at the end of tugging string
there was a place in my head that dissolved living
a spindle that gathered all my yarn and knitted something else
back into a shape I did not recognize
she went on without
this clockwork version of myself
whilst I followed the bath water down the drain
hearing your serpentine taunt
what was it you said?
you would feed me?
I don’t need food
I don’t need air
I am existing on memories
of being fearless and before erosion
the wonderlust of the young and close to flame
possessing no sticky cleavage, no rub of thigh
or need to sup
the fealty of those who have not yet
watched their bones dissolve into chalk
this theatre is cold
like love when it is left
on a low flame
catching and diminishing
as most will rest
and one dances
mad arms flung
like sticks of liquorice
have you ever known what someone was like?
but somewhere along the journey, without any good reason, forgotten
gone on forgetting until all the things they are capable of
are lost and you see them with fresh eyes
just as wrecked and pulled to pieces the next time, they tear your fucking heart out
is that forgiveness God? When you forgive and you don’t forget?
except the very act of forgiving means you do forget
the extremity of pain and its after effects
how can you walk next to someone capable of pinching off
all their emotions as if you were snuff
turning out the light on you
just. like. that.
harm stains the mattress a livid hue
as if I were given a blood transfusion of pain
tell me please
who do I have to hurt to stop?
myself, or all the years
I wasn’t myself?