Sleep overs.

Written: 2012-2013 x Edited: 2024

Your steps were as articulate as masturbatory indifference-
blistered heels tip-toeing down hallways
that were never meant for three a.m.
or the blatant casualness that brushes against my face
like re-conciliate razor blades-
the kind I occasionally find in your car but attempt to think nothing of anymore.

I said I’d try, but the vowels you manage
to leave out to dry on my fingertips
have taken me for a fool again.
Somewhere between the days you won’t even look at me
and the family dinners I keep making excuses for you at
the fillings in our teeth began to chit-chat
and crack stacking bet upon bet against our already guilty conscience. I don’t understand what you have left to protect except for your own malcontent-

what the hell does that leave us with?

The last I heard crooked spines twisted in silence.

The cruelty of your moistened lips does not go unnoticed.