i like to think the light bulb
shares more with me than just indifference
i like to think that my scorched finger
has marked her with a tiny print of frostbite
i don't care if she likes it
i just want her to know it's there
so then i can know

it's always in the dark where i come alive
black fingertips i drag, like lips, across the mirrors
light lives inside reflections
the youthful eagerness of self-belief
now it takes so long for me
to realize i'm only bleeding, when i think she's getting wet
i don't really care if i like it
because she's not really there

08/14/2010

Author's Note: you like to think that the accuracy that i've grown to embrace is so ugly

Posted on 08/14/2010
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