bones & bruises

I suck at writing love poems, but here's an attempt.

I was born a

crotchety old f**k.

My mother always said I was an

old soul and although I

brushed it off due to a

brief period of child-like

naivety in my adolescence

that I never expected to

return, I guess she really did

know.

.

When you peeled back your

skull for me the particles

that make up my cardiac muscles

accelerated past the speed of

light, effectively hurdling me down

the hallway of my childhood

house, and landing me face

first on the floor of my

old bedroom with friction burns on my

chest and blisters covering the inside of my rib

cage.

.

It really took the piss out of me but

all I can think now is that if

you can do that much damage using nothing

but your eyes, then I can't wait

to see what you can do with your

lips.