untitled ii ~ {to my sadist}

iii.  
i found myself at the epicenter, wholly faulted & chaffed between more    
& make it fucking stop because i'm bleeding on the floor again.    
there were globules of my psyche in the vermilion trickle & you examined    
the harsh colour on my too white skin as tho contemplating its tribology, calculating  
the interfacial energy as it cooled.    
i wondered if you understood the process of oxidation on my leg,    
how i divined time by the transfer of electrons & the gradient of temperature;    
i wondered if you understood the metaphors in the red tear.  
   
ii.    
the abridged version of things best left unsaid pooled between the    
pale to the chief polish and my cuticles. you read the rivulet like hieroglyphs,    
transliterating my silence in dessicated & flaking sangria toned forks.    
you were drunk on knowledge.    
pupils eclipsed in answer.  
   
i.  
i wanted to draw my parallels into a single, glistening bead from where it clung precariously  
between my skin & your breath.    
the pain was unholy    
& in my twisted way of thinking, i believed all the wrongs could be righted    
there where your teeth tore into the nerves at the heart of me.