(no subject)
& honey honey, you met me here. here where i cling so close that not even the skin is enough and i find myself biting to get down to the bone, to learn the shape of a skeleton so close to my own. you have met me here. filled to the teeth with a fury to own and belong and to find you always in my corner, always in every room. filled to spilling with consequences and calendar pages. and so the week spins knee-deep to thursday and the girl who wishes she was born in italy makes her entrance three, four times. she practices greeting the empty room and i am not watching. i am. if i can hook my fingers through your ribcage -- if her imaginary audience demands an encore -- the man in front of me says he can still see the queen of belgium. "i was in love with her when i was a kid. died in an automobile accident." i have nothing to give him but i have charted out the course of the blood through your veins and i have set out like so many ships. the bruises like lipstick on a film noir collar: vessels burst, their contents surface. not even the skin is enough. my mouth fills to spilling neck arches and spitting your image and honey, honey. you have met me here.