i hate when i find myself lying next to you.
which i always do, indefinitely.
curled up in your infection, swapping sloppy diseased kisses
i feel like an alien in your brilliance.
or maybe convinced intelligence, oppressive mental olympics
your collar bone is gleaming green, seeping puss
comforting, strangely to me, wanting me to drink and slirp it up
your sweaty tongue bleeds spit onto my sheets
maybe i said something that i shouldn't say?
maybe i said something to scare you away?
because it's easier for me.
the next time i'm on top of you i'm ripping your head off.
you giggle.
turn pink and soft, curled up in my beehive.
sweet and sticky and salty and warm. nectar in my stomach.
maybe i like waking up in a fuss next to you. watch your eyelids
blossom like orchids.
maybe i like waking up next to you.
maybe i am terrified.
bend me until i don't recognize my self. change my shape to perfect meadows.
make me smell like you. make me think what you want me to.
- Author: jm (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: September 14th, 2020 01:35
- Comment from author about the poem: lust and love are not =
- Category: Love
- Views: 46
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