maybe I should've listened to that fortune teller...

maybe I should've let the heat

lie still

and all the things

that made us bleak and mean and broken

would've dissipated with time

but I don't have the constitution

to believe

in anything that smells like a miracle

I've known too many strangers

bled in too many beds

my smallest bits

still cling to you

as some sort of unnaturally stupid salvation

it was just so easy

to slip into you

like soft fire

feed myself mouthfuls of your sentences

all more enticing than any other sounds

that had ever laid across my mind

you still stand

among a thousand shades of boring

and I still can't

convince my throat to give up your name