-- i am an addict & i have a problem."

i cross my legs and tell my psychiatrist
this is day two. i'm lying. and she isn't
close enough to see
you're caught beneath my manicure.
it's a shame, such a shame,
she's overlooked the love
bites on my neck where i said don't,
don't stop. as if you meant to.
as if you ever meant anything.

still;
i tore your back like a second language
and you curled my fingers into quotations
of the words i wouldn't scream. after,
you lingered, and let the smoke narrate
in lazy russian subtitles.
you bruise my ego when you lift my skirt.
she suspects.

so i say, thursdays are for gossip,
and split my skin into a smile.
i pay eight dollars for concealer,
ninety for this hour, and one of them works
wonders. every time i lie
i put two fingers down my throat
and let them stretch and stutter
until the truth comes out.

you like me better when i'm transparent.
i like you best when you're on top.