bedroom windows

It is not just sex
but what I gave with it
a body of everything I gutted out for you
as perfect as I tried
but somehow you tasted me wrong and
perhaps I am now just a piece of
torn meat on you?

It is not just rotten clenches
in me when I wake up knowing
I now have to learn to trust
that you trust me, too It is not just the fact that
I'm delusional, buying sizes
too small and eating
too little It is not
just because I hold onto
your T-shirt every
night as if you are here looking at me the
way I want you to, the way you
don't.
Do you?

It is not just rings
and dreams that make me scream
'let me go!' It is not just
the distances apart like gazillion
fingers and half held breaths
I just can't put a finger to
what's making me my own
catastrophe, can I get back
to you later,
please?



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Poet's note: I am FLIPPING, because "The Last tear I shed for you" is meant to come after all these ones. I don't know how I managed to skip all these poems and going straight for that one. Oh, bother.