I crave normalcy,
stupid faces and telepathic, giggling communication,
a gentle heart throbbing in my lap
as quiet fingers caress the knots out of my hair.
I want sweet, silver kisses in the cascading rain,
a cheap pendant on an expensive chain,
and nervous, naive thighs.

Instead you have me choking, choking
on this nakedness and heat,
sub-tropical as I walk tightrope on heartstrings
and taut, lacy underwear,
trying to suck the stinging salt out of
the cracks in my lipstick,
like I tried to suck her out of you.

And yet she remains in your reptilian eyes,
ripped, resewn;
Irreplaceable.

When you are healed, am I redundant?