because my computer always crashes...
Sallow-cheeked apology rings
Hollow against glass eye -
Retract your fingernail, scratch
Out that lie.
Days later, chapped lips,
Tired of smiles
Made jagged by teeth, pressing
For freedom.
Weeks later, closed eyes
Replaying events, categorize
Mistakes as “meant” and “accident”
[Subcategories: “real,” and “invent”]
Fifteen tries later,
She still finds it hard to moan
Still thinks her voice sounds hollow
Still apologizes over a cigarette.
Still shrugs on the brink
Of remembering that puppets are people,
Feeling almost sorry
Now,
Skin splitting at the cracks,
Apologies grown tired.
“I meant it”
she says
“I meant it” this time.
Split the peel, snaps yellow
Fever, splits into strips
Bite, gag reflex trite
Tired and lying but at least
No longer apologizing.
Now dark streets look more like tunnels
She invents bright endings
“tomorrow” is her favorite, but sometimes
“someday” falls onto her tongue and sounds
momentarily like truth.
He beats his chest, she remembers everything,
Hates that his eyes are hollow because hers
Are bookcases, gleaming with novels she wrote
From memories he forced.
A whole volume dedicated to him, most of the pages
To him, forgotten.
She reads them now, again, trying
To decide if she chose the right direction,
Turning the pages slow and delicate,
Not to rip her sense of self.
Discovers a scene, resplendent with hope not sodden
Yet with regret, a quote she wrote
Inside her lip, so she’d remember, whenever they kissed.
She goes to him, pulls back the soft skin,
“Do you want me to bite it?”
“No, read it.”
“Do you want me to kiss it?”
“No, read it.”
“There’s nothing there.”
Forgetting, his one consistency.
she breathes slow and easy, shock
never a game they played. Pushes
his hand away, bites his question with her eyes.
“leave” comes out solid and heavy like a rock,
still he lays, tilted head “you’re losing
it,” he says, calming hand against her shoulder,
she begins to shake. Desperate to keep still,
I am not fucking insane she whispers into her hair,
Hoping it will absorb. But how many times
Can she repeat “I am”?
He pats her head, “you’ll be ok.” Turns to snore,
Her stomach turns to roar
From her mouth, Niagra Falls
short of expectations. If she could feel light enough to float
she wouldn’t be drowning.
eyes slam against brain, cushy soft tissue of unimaginable
pain. No/Yes blends silent fusion paradox juts
truthical explosion.
Hollow against glass eye -
Retract your fingernail, scratch
Out that lie.
Days later, chapped lips,
Tired of smiles
Made jagged by teeth, pressing
For freedom.
Weeks later, closed eyes
Replaying events, categorize
Mistakes as “meant” and “accident”
[Subcategories: “real,” and “invent”]
Fifteen tries later,
She still finds it hard to moan
Still thinks her voice sounds hollow
Still apologizes over a cigarette.
Still shrugs on the brink
Of remembering that puppets are people,
Feeling almost sorry
Now,
Skin splitting at the cracks,
Apologies grown tired.
“I meant it”
she says
“I meant it” this time.
Split the peel, snaps yellow
Fever, splits into strips
Bite, gag reflex trite
Tired and lying but at least
No longer apologizing.
Now dark streets look more like tunnels
She invents bright endings
“tomorrow” is her favorite, but sometimes
“someday” falls onto her tongue and sounds
momentarily like truth.
He beats his chest, she remembers everything,
Hates that his eyes are hollow because hers
Are bookcases, gleaming with novels she wrote
From memories he forced.
A whole volume dedicated to him, most of the pages
To him, forgotten.
She reads them now, again, trying
To decide if she chose the right direction,
Turning the pages slow and delicate,
Not to rip her sense of self.
Discovers a scene, resplendent with hope not sodden
Yet with regret, a quote she wrote
Inside her lip, so she’d remember, whenever they kissed.
She goes to him, pulls back the soft skin,
“Do you want me to bite it?”
“No, read it.”
“Do you want me to kiss it?”
“No, read it.”
“There’s nothing there.”
Forgetting, his one consistency.
she breathes slow and easy, shock
never a game they played. Pushes
his hand away, bites his question with her eyes.
“leave” comes out solid and heavy like a rock,
still he lays, tilted head “you’re losing
it,” he says, calming hand against her shoulder,
she begins to shake. Desperate to keep still,
I am not fucking insane she whispers into her hair,
Hoping it will absorb. But how many times
Can she repeat “I am”?
He pats her head, “you’ll be ok.” Turns to snore,
Her stomach turns to roar
From her mouth, Niagra Falls
short of expectations. If she could feel light enough to float
she wouldn’t be drowning.
eyes slam against brain, cushy soft tissue of unimaginable
pain. No/Yes blends silent fusion paradox juts
truthical explosion.