(no subject)

[nikkisait]

altogether too much

the light shines through your fingertips,
water through a colander, when you
share your love thoroughly,
tactile and truthful as it really is,
stretching arms and legs to shove
your love on the closest thing to you.
“Love me!” your expression shrieks,
and they can only oblige, because
the pout of your lips and
the sigh on your tongue
are too alluring to deny.

hell hath

in the dim
shine of the streetlight,
I can pretend
that you still
love me.
she thinks I’m
unhealthy, infatuated;
though she doesn’t
know it yet, the
love you crave
Is unforgiving,
unequal, not reciprocal
in the slightest,
and when she’s
disposed of,
too this-or-
That for you, she
will be among
the many lost girls
you pretended to love
once.
I’ll be her beacon:
give me your wounded,
your heartsick,
your discarded girls,
yearning to be free of this love;
I’ll turn them into
lovers Well-scorned.

sour-sweet-shy

And those earnestly sweet boys
who kiss you like they’re fighting disbelief
will never impress someone so
Daring as you, especially when there’s an
ever-shortening line of boys
outside the kitchen windows, ready to
Sweet-talk you into doing things that
leave you bawling behind a locked door
while everyone outside swears
“I’ll kill the little bastard.”
the definite nature of your love
leaves you cold and aching for
Anything more than this
lonely room in your heart,
barren and full of locked doors.