deepundergroundpoetry.com

Dissection

You still miss her, I can tell.    
   
Kills more than the dead sex    
the routine bump bump[switch]cum    
I out-of-body watch these days    
when your mind is occupied otherwise.    
Probably in her lush dark hair    
and sun-soaked navel.    
She was awfully gentle, wasn't she?    
Sophisticated and aloof    
halo hanging just a little sideways    
and you held her like a china doll.    
I loved that you could be so careful    
[your ropes were taut    
primed for my Swiss Army.]    
   
But red roses and silk sheets    
Austrian crystal chandeliers    
lobster and scotch on Daddy's 80 foot yacht?    
Gag reflex yanks at my diaphragm    
exaggerating far gone memories    
that aren't even mine    
moulding them into every    
conceivable cliche    
topped with the bitterness of knowing    
[I can't give you what she had]    
   
and I want to shatter the table between us    
with fists and gritted teeth    
braced to smear me [dust/blood/water]    
through your ballasted heart.    
[so balanced.so fucking sane you look like this]    
I want the face that reminds me I'm nothing    
if not your moment -    
the face I fucked out of you    
the first time we simultaneously clocked    
that we meant more    
than 'later' to each other    
and almost as much as tomorrow.    
   
I remember, you loved me then.
Written by Jestalessa
Published
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