He said that in the last six years
the only thing that hadn't changed
was her kindness.
In other news,
the gut churning after effect of love lost
is that odd sense of quiet.
I talk to you and I think about
how we've lost our rhythm. I once knew you
so well that we spoke in sync. I couldn't really tell
you if this is a loss or not. I think it once was. I think I once
longed for you, yearned for you. Your sense of introspection grows
as I speak to you each year.
With another face,
I look and beg you to rip my fucking guts out.
Toss me up against this car and make me bleed
and you comply and I respond
but only in my head.
I'm yearning for marks and blood.
I'm dying to rip flesh from bones
to watch the drama play out in front of me
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