Chapter Text
if only i were a keg or a lighter
igniting something in you for the first time;
who am i if not something
to be loved for how i am used.
if i am a basement, you were the staircase
i am nothing, nothing
without your hands touching me
a frame hanging empty on a bare wall.
through memories you hold me hostage
in your life as if i never left
i can feel your clammy hands
grabbing ‘til your knuckles whiten
like milky oatmeal.
loving you was slamming
my fingers in a door and praying
that you’d glance over long enough to notice
at least you looked at me.
your clothes are still locked
in the back of my broken Honda;
i can’t risk smelling you
as i transfer them to the dumpster.
i can’t even bleed decisively;
my arteries clot just as easy as they
split open
every time i tear at my arms
i swear i see your corkscrew curls
untying themselves from my veins.
i hope that you never relearn me.