I dig my nails into your november-sunburnt shoulders and leave
flakes of green nail polish in the bruises I press into your upper arms

I memorize:

the hollows of your cheekbones & the calluses
on your feet (you have long toes, I tease you
mercilessly)

you tell me stories about happy endings when I ask you for lies,
and you wear complexes like piercings and me,

(lover)

you wear like the Mozart your pretending to like and we scream,
tired of drawing misery on our feet with worn-out tattoo guns.

(love (h) er)

we scream.

a/n: its crap. whatever. i'm to high to care. (this poem is a result of a coke binge)