ever forgotten a word you needed?

had it on the tip of my tongue.

Wastecase

December 3, 2011

.

For some reason,

I just don't sleep anymore.

.

And he said

"these things take a lot of work,

being successful doesn't just come

in paper-wrapped boxes,

you open on your birthday.

I don't get anything for all that I do,

so I can't keep doing this.

You're a burden, now."

.

He turned away,

the light sparkled

bouncing off his glasses;

from a profile view,

I still thought he was beautiful.

.

Above all this hate,

I still felt admiration.

.

So he got up to leave, and I,

being the self-denying creature

that I am, I cheered him on

with happy smiles and

hopeful words.

.

Broken hearts meet my chest cavity

hours too late. I've already

stopped caring.

.

But every time I hear his blaring songs,

see his bright lit face in city streets,

I flicker in my certainty,

and wind the scarf a little tighter

round my pale, frozen neck.

.

The words that escape his lips

bring about a the image of a

burdened wastecase. A lonely

little writer, like me.

Who sits upon her holy throne,

signing certificates to be the next

piece that gets to own me.

.

And they purchase my heart

equally portioned in little diamond squares

hidden and wound inside his

plastic cases and cheap CD's.

Sometimes, they buy a hacked lung

cut into strips, buried in his vinyls.

.

I don't mind.

No, I don't mind his poisonous

kiss, his melted marrow-bone

caress, slick like acid.

I rather enjoy the burning

of his skin on mine.

.

Sinful, like my dreams at fame.

Sluts strutting before carnal cameras.

We are, we are.