he told her it was a poetic device and she took it to heart.

9/28/11.

she kisses hearts
and stabs lips,
luring them into traps
and whispering,
"this is all your fault."
she counts wishes
and makes stars,
one for every finger
and two for every toe,
"he'll come home tomorrow."
she drinks air
and breathes water,
gripping edges of sheets
and moaning,
"what's your name again?"
she smiles into his hand
and slips a bit on her expression,
emotions dropping
faster than the temperature.
"he was always full of s**t."