i remember when someone kissed my hipbones last:
it was years ago, in the dark.
you don't know now how long it's lasted,
like a disease eating away at the bone
where the sweet warmth of kisses should be.
i miss the way you pulled me to your core,
yet your hands were hooks,
puncturing me
"catching me"
like stealing a fish from the place where it is free,
only to cut its head off,
scale it,
filet it,
until it's easy to eat.
i'm in a bed like a net that has protected me
from falling into a canyon of fear,
drowning in its tumultuous rivers
which beat me against rocks.
when i can sleep again
maybe i'll find someone else to join me,
someone who will let go when their kisses are dry.