dirty street. surgery hours. sutures. it felt that raw. "impend my doom". versify your tragedy. you were not with me. i did not see you. yes you shook through the film, moulded the flesh. your cruel naivety. unspeakably soiled hands hung me to dry. she asked me whether i enjoyed it. i said no, but only after a pause. open your envelope, the one with the black book & your hushed squeezed scrawl, the indent where your tears dried. let me fill that void, tape your mouth, the ache and gash. new blood & salt on my teeth. if i choke you will be pardoned wordlessly, & much too soon. turn a deaf ear. we keep pressing lips.

crying to songs about exclusivity. crying to songs promoting forgiveness. crying to songs pouring love. because i want to believe. not necessarily again, not necessarily for the first time. just all the way, just once.

sting. type softly of traps with a sterile keyboard. no-one was listening. the blue halo of the computer screen lit the entire room. it was 1:21am when i lost interest. it was the afternoon when you called and i laughed hysterically because the truth of my own sadness was too confronting. back & forth, wood against stone. i remember you if i close my eyes. but you're incomplete and i can't draw in the hollows. where are the parts that are solely mine to own? i've rushed blindly into erasure, fumbled desperately for closure. each morning, same void. you picked me like an apple off a tree. the clock rewinds for no-one. bite in.

that tuesday in bed i prayed. the next day, wednesday, i left a collage of tissues strewn around home. i spoke with a boy who convinced me to dial your number, & later sweated from the news of traitorous lovers. i am useless to him now which is as good as dead. at least when you used me you only chucked me away like an unwanted toy. at least when you used me you never failed to do it again.