I am making a conscious decision
To never get over you

First love hurts, they say
Transient adore wounds;
But it is adolescent of the gall
And thus capable of being treated

With warm, dry, coarse wrappings
Would the abject denizens dress my
Jipped, cuckled shoulder;
And scorch and bathe all traces of you
From the leather canvas of my skin.

But I am incorrigible—
And yeah: I am using pratfall words,
Disdainable immunities, cataract
Chimeras (in their turquoise-gold skirts, twirling
More or less aimlessly, like the many
Glory-Seeking Sufi dancers).
Because I am misanthropic, and love, like any unconquerable enemy
Fascinates me. Because I am
Rapacious and my love yields
The sirius feast. Because I am
[monstr] and delight in
The pejorative deflowering of anything
Held up to be sacrosanct.

Because I
Refuse to be a lotus eater.

I will
Wear your clothes, sing of you often,
And, on my more salaciously intoxicated eves,
Hold you in my nefarious arms
Again.

So let's
Dissect these saccharine subjects, let's
Talk about this lunacy— let's
[Dance] about our architecture.

There is
Fresh meat on the floor.

-

Take a gander at my back:
Your stain is still
There.


a/n: the "brida" pair, the "sofie" series, "Distractions"--- even "Bright Eyes" if you squint--- this is what an unclean, confusing breakup looks like for me. pathetic, yes? all i can say now was that i wish i had adhered to my original convictions, that i never reconsidered my decision never to cross the rubicon that was the line of friendship; i wish that my sensibility had kicked in while she was courting me, before rewarding her efforts with my initiating kiss. . . .