Repetitive Thoughts

Sitting in a room of empty glasses
you've used up
each
and every
drop.
I have dropped
so much of my security and sense of authority
dignity and growing ambiguity
for one boy, the first boy-
who swifltly became the only boy.

The moment hardens into cough-sweets that sour and stick dry to my throat.
He stood under that light
when I didn't understand at the time
if we had saved or destroyed any remaining hope.
I remember looking back,
so dimly lit

You should either have left sooner or settled incontent
as this uncivilized asylum
is such feeble torment

Finger marks on my mirror, and the poignancy of your clothes-
once in my wardrobe, now scattered about my floor
we were once scattered-
I can still cry.
There's no gorgon or dragon in the place of the
once 'beautiful' person you told me I was
you told me I was spiteful.
I want to spite you
so I suppose I am -full
just not able.
I was trying to say you left stains
you still live in my bedroom, the you I had
not this synthetic, inconsistent variation.

You've bleached away the essence of us
with every further penniless pain you lower into my lower intestine.