for you, it's all
one big fucking loophole.
i could let you snag,
flail; wipe your face
with that grin
you're prone to dishing.

so dish and carve;
dig me out, and
let me be your personal
pet corpse.

i could have been
bailed out long ago,
could have crawled
from my grave
with your name
upon my lips and
none quite the wiser.

there have been days
that i begged your god
to learn my tongue,
to bathe in the sunlight
you've scorned and unlearned.

you never did appreciate
the way the moon sang for you,
or the way your wings
curled when you were content.

i made you vulnerable,
you made me a scar, and
as our pelvis's thrust,
i can only hope i won't
bang too hard.
you scream,
a whining whore,
your vocal chords snapped and
dangling.

(i wish i could
do the same
to your limbs but
you're too fragile
for me to take pride
in unraveling the layers
beneath your shadow.)

12/27/2003

Author's Note: eegads. okay. this is several people at once.

Posted on 12/27/2003
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe