you turn your head towards the sun
a blast of gold;
it hurts my eyes and yet I’m hooked you’re my favourite past time; you laugh and the world stands still for a moment.
a dark, dingy bed that reeks of activities left better unsaid I wrap a sheet around my waist my torso is bare;
you’re not bothered you said you want to feel everything on your skin,
your senses are ignited; and so is my heart.
I open my eyes, sweaty, broken wanting to close them but I know you’re gone another face, distorted, looms over me fucking me like you never did but he has your hair; that’s the closest I can get to your crooked heart and cigarette smoking face and so I sigh and dream.
at least I can imagine
you’re laughing in them with me.
K.C. — I don’t love him but he’s here
in the dream, we have both tried to forget
how it feels to be alone.
your forehead is smooth, your hair cut short. my burn scars are all gone, fading to white on my palms.
i bought the lie you told about it being easier to be by ourselves: it felt like a placebo,
felt like it could make everything better. it didn’t seem to hurt at the time.
what hurt is your face turned away, your fingers tight and fisted,
your voice hoarse and cracking under the weight of your words.
what hurt is how hard it was for you to meet my eyes.
later, alone in your room,
i couldn’t help but wonder: did you feel guilty when you fell out of love with me?
i did not remember my name that night, didn’t forget that you were human too,
or the way it felt when you laid down on top of me.
we melted into each other like candle wax, soft against each others’ skins.
i think that might be why you stayed.
when i woke up you were gone, a ghost in my bedroom,
a thought i made up: maybe, if i waited longer, you would have become
smaller, less noticeable in your absence.
we have both tried to make less of each other. we have been cruel, said the words but didn’t
mean them, meant the words but didn’t say them.
we should have loved each other at the same time