i.
the summer came
and my smile was(n't)
a little less beautiful,
the cherries bloomed
in the tree(but no one ate them)
i was always too scared to
climb, its branches thick and
snarled like dog teeth
in your leg and the infection
it caused.

i spent a day at the beach
and came home with my
toes covered in gritty sand
imported from a lone ocean state
that could've been a star like texas
but it got too cold on lonely nights
and died of something other than
hypothermia.

ii.
the packet of
cigarettes i stole is almost empty
and i don't know where the lighter is
(you always said smoking was bad
so maybe i shouldn't stop.) the piano
sits in the room with the china and
is red wine, an aged woman who hasn't
been touched since two weeks ago.

autumn always comes
too early for me to enjoy the pleasure
of it all and the leaves burn my
scalp, goldred flames, turn the black of
your mouth into a candlelight vigil for
something i could lose myself in, pray to
on city mornings of no sleep, i want to
get lost in the bruise your mouth makes(made?)
on the curve of my neck.

iii.
the marks your teeth leave are swelling,
blue, expanding under the tip of my veins,
reaching toward my heart, you're trying to pull
all the marrow out of my bones and stop the
breath in my lungs, make me shapeless and
deformed, dead(but didn't i already die?)