When I said you had eyes as dark as suicide-
icicles, I think you misunderstood me. Imagine
waking up to a couple of razor-blades
being jammed into electrical outlets. Picture
a mouth like a dried up swamp from the
Paleolithic period, ripe and toothless
after the hurricane. When i said
you were a discovery, I didn’t mean a catch;
I meant the curious pool of bacteria
you collect in your mother’s bathroom has something
scientists might one day be interested in. When I said
you smell unique in certain places, it wasn’t ‘impossible
saffron‘ or ‘incredible lavender‘; it was the hand-soap
that I wished you used more of, and that covered up
something far, far worse. When I said
you were incredible, I actually said
inedible. When I said you
made me goofy, I didn’t mean
silly-goofy, I meant you kissed
me all backwards, so all I felt was
smoke and ash. I meant dyslexic.
That kind of goofy. When I say dyslexic,
I mean when we had sex for eight hours and
slept for four, I wished it were the other way around.
I meant that every kiss was a chance to spit in your
mouth, a chance I miss. I mean missed.
I mean, let’s stop this. When you once read
a self-help book that told you
to swallow something you could not love,
I swallowed everything. When you
tried to hold my hand I pretended I had to
touch the left side of my face. When you told me
the book said to keep something terrible inside
of you, collect the ashes of anyone who stares
too long, I left. It was the only time I listened to
anything you said while we made love.
When I said dyslexic, I mean I must’ve read you wrong.
I mean, the telephone lines must’ve been down.
You never called. I mean
You didn’t come back.