6.3.16

if i were a wolf
i'd roll over
and show you my belly
when you howled your pain
at the moon.

when you told me
you'd proceed
to fuck up a jackrabbit
i almost said
'just come to queens
and punch me.'

i didn't.
i didn't say anything.

i still haven't.
said anything,
i mean.

i wonder if that
was the issue, that i
never said anything
when i started doubting.

but i did
tell you a lot.
and, of course,
now i regret
ever saying a damn thing.

now that i can't
i miss being able
to tell you anything.
being able to tell anyone
anything.

i can't decide if i'm
hearing music or just
losing my shit, but
i'm glad i can't listen
to any song that
would remind me of us.
...it's gotta be a radio,
somewhere,
right?

or, also,
you could come
to new york
to kiss me.
i forgot to say that,
before, because,
you know.
i want it

and that's wrong.