Do You Have a Place For Me?

Let’s make each other
cry

Let’s take a weekend
to do it

Clear your schedule
we can stay up all night

I will collect your hair
with my mouth
Use the strands
to sew the slices
in my heart

We can try to fix
before we break

Blood on the floor

then on the pillows

There is a place
on the backs
of my hands
for you

We Will Be Casualties

Pat my face
with your
napkin
made of bees
I’ll stretch your insides
again

as far as my arm muscles
are able

as far as your voice
will let me

We can see a movie when it’s all over
Step Up 3-D or
Witches of Eastwick, the Return

everything swollen,
sore

I’ll let you rest your hand on my thigh

You’ll let me touch the side of your foot with my shoe

We’ll put our phones on SILENT

like the rest of us

until the credits roll

then we’ll go home

which are different places

to rot and die in

Janitor’s keys
stolen
wrapped
in sandwich bags
sewn into
the space
beneath my
belly button
they jostle around
quietly
opening nothing

They never
want to
go anywhere.

They are the
most boring keys
ever.

At night
I press them
with thoughts of you
until there’s pain

You should try to
get those keys
maybe we could
go somewhere

Please be
fluent in me

I know you have
the advantage

Ready.

Set.

Get.

There is a porn addiction.
There are windows where I want you
to see me,
how I want you
to see me.

I lick my fingers and smile
at the corners
of the bedroom
the backs of my
eyelids.

There is a complete silence
where my heart used to be.