Someone to leave a hollow indent on the bed next to me.
My husband is gone & the sheets are cold.
9pm on a Tuesday evening—
you could hear pine needles drop
as you wave that pathetic dick in her face.
you clasp her hands, again, as she whispers:
what have you done to my body?
you said you loved fat bottomed girls
diamonds dazzling navels
tongues that unravel the night
tasting lonely & wild
etch a sketch memory
& lips rimmed with sugar
who don’t need terms up front
poems inked with Chanel lipstick
up and down 5th ave
by a laugh that buckles a chest

you said you wanted everything
but you just didn’t want me

Winter #6

My body is soft like the smell of amber, but I strain to thin it into nothing.

& The Dirt

as in I’m scared
not by how much I need,

but by how much I’m prepared
to wreck to make it