I crunch skittles between my teeth and spell your name
in the condensation on the mirror, i whisper i need you
to try out the sound of it in my mouth. you never feel right
on my lips, and i use your words to line the pages of my journal,
a frame for useless details and depraved wants.

i break my pen and scratch my name across my fingertips,
I interrupt the inked over lines of metaphor soaked poetry
with denial, and the lines blur from the ice cubes I use to
erase the pen. black ink is the hardest to wash out, I compare
it to the faded permanent marker on my palms, your initials
are the hardest to escape, a redblue scrawl across my life line.

Your fingers brush my ankle, it's hard not to bleed
under your mouth; i want to shatter you.