What do you do
when you're fucking a girl
with blue-green eyes
and not because you love her,
no, but because you have nothing better
to do; no other way
of erasing the pain
of forgetting about the fetus
that could have been
had it not been
miscarried (as if you would
have kept it, anyway)

aborted feelings
dizzy thoughts reeling

So what do you do?
She's lying naked in my bed,
drunk as filth with lips still red—

But you're the one
inside of my head: memories replaying
on silver fucking screens.
Pictures painted pretty
with a love no longer clean.
Such a theatrical scene
is now driving me insane—
as bittersweet as rain—
but it meant something, you know.
Sparked something to life
inside of something dead:
renewed sense of reality;
tender touches;
what was blind could see.

So what would you do?
Would you do anything at all?

I kiss her lips and pretend
that she's the one, that I'm not dead,
but we all know how this story ends
and it ends with you not doing
a goddamned thing