Fullest

What it feels like when your lover takes you for granted....

I’m filled with blood!

I wouldn’t have been one to notice if not for your ambitious ignorance and asymmetrical sensitivity. For the vision of you, a carnivore, I spliced open my forefinger. Watching scented liquid amass itself onto a canvas I'd hoped would draw you.

In memory of a loving willingness, this behavior is induced upon the earth.

The apathy within your teeth transformed me into ever-anxious prey; pulsing me forward into shedding for you. There are removals of tone: muscle lacing away from the trickery of fabrication, and it is during this process that I see you thickening in force.

The side of your face that is gentle, with no bending of judgment in the brow, is filmy within my vision. There’s a milk covering my perception of you that’s only cut through by your abrasive severity. Since becoming the centerpiece for your complicated denial I have found the blood inside my body. It sticks stubbornly to the surfaces of my veins; only to be moved when I question my contentment. It’s then the mimicry of higher passion and the screaming hiss inside my skull is peaceful lamentation: “I am overlooked significance. I am filled with blood!”