love's arrows are such barbs in my hind
and i'm scratching at the welts they give me
tearing at bolts of flesh to get some
poison and i'll suck down on this
raw, red wound gaping and winking at me,
on my arms.
I hate this disaster. I hate it, I hate it.
And the disaster is that you will not go.
You will not.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

yeah well you left me didn't you

text me damn you

for love of