a year later
we hadn't talked
the sun started to melt away the
evening summer sky
it was just us at the top of the hill
we gazed
we chattered
boards at the ready; familiar
you reached for my hand
& your touch
your touch felt blissfully comfortable
careful stop at the bottom of the hill
i didn't want to let go

Books upon books stacked on
the few bookshelves in my bedroom
I haven't read any
Watermarked ceiling
Hazy mellow lighting lures the shadows
Full ashtray
Chamomile tea
Two honey

I go to the washroom to freshen up
The bar is loud
I smell something familiar
Smells like you
It smells like you
Comfort
I don't want to lose you
I'm sorry
I'm ******, I know
We're fcked
We know

You said I reminded you of music.
I know music is one of your favourite things.
The pressure.
You'd wake me with kisses & caress my skin.
But what happens when your fingertips come across my imperfections.
The shame.
You say I'm more than you could ever ask for.
But what happens when I tell you there is more.
The guilt.
You have your addictions, like we are with tarring our lungs. What if you found that I do it because it slowly kills me.
The irony.

The blade is dull
but not dull enough
so I scratch in just enough to see red
I can feel my mind & body calm
focused
at ease
no stinging
numb
did I subconsciously pick this spot
as a reminder?
not enough red
it's a test
why?
the music isn't loud enough
flip the switchblade
relapsed.

Bullets flying
coincidentally none strike  
smoke ablaze
but unnoticed
was the bullet between her teeth
unharmed she appears
the bullet drops to the dirt
her teeth crumble
her tongue bleeds
and a single tear escapes
so effortlessly
as though it was yearning to be freed
but of which emotion
no one will know