“I wish I could tell you just how I’m hurt,
Then point the location, it’s in another universe.”
I startled my dream,
playing the smallest
violin for two.
I play chords where
the moist place in both
of us begs aloud.
So I hope it’s so.
Every gasp you gave,
from thirsting lips,
a spread of love was wiped
on sward by me—
We might have just healed each other,
we might’ve been salve, rather than lather.
I am bent, I am not aligned,
I am not favored to remain
for much longer.
I crave clots from ventricles,
pumping ceaselessly as I talk, pulling
grass violently from the ground.
Blood bubbling on a tongue,
I came to you, the hollow echo of Love’s last words
curbed to my throat.
I might have mentioned my hurt,
where I thought it was placed,
and how profound I thought that was
for you to hear about, then left, soon after.