i want to trust you- i want to believe you mean the things you say
but you are more puckish that i have allowed myself to see
and i am not as blind now as i once was; i came here eyes open
and while i am not sure what to think, i choose this time
to err on the side of caution; i remind myself that though you sang through my veins,
crackled electric in my heart... i was not *your* beautiful laughing muse....
rarely inspired poetry to come rushing from your blood like ink


always prepared, i wrap my heart in "do not cross" tape and await your arrival

********************

i am torn between wanting you in my bed
wanting to feel our bodies shudder once again in time
and knowing your tendency to light up a cigarette after sex
will leave my sheets smoking, burning
as you blow kisses, walk away, away, and back out of my life
i'm sure you will promise to call me, promise
me everything i long for; i am not hidden about emotions
and i am certain you can see in these brown eyes
everything i try to hide from you; you have my heart
in your pocket, and you know how to use it
your eyes reflect mine; we have discussed that
i wonder if it's self mutilation if i let you hold the knife
you know best how to make me bleed internally

********************

you never checked off the box of what you want me to be-
i offered you, i think, several choices- a heroine, a drug
a mistress to beat you bloody, to make you feel redeemed
perhaps just a body to warm your bed, something soft
to stick your cock into; now i wonder if you're on the rebound
if another girl has broken your heart, and now you want
to run back into my arms, just as a temporary fix

i don't dare hope you want me as a lover, as an equal...
i wish, i ponder, but i cannot let myself believe you truly miss me

i will not allow myself to again indulge in idle fantasies like love

********************

you tell me you still desire me, you still long
for my touches, my caress, my claws and bite-
i am vain enough, i suppose, to believe you want me
that you like the way my body arches for yours
the way my hair spills over a pillow, careless
that it is i you dream of fucking, that i am the girl you love
and yet it will all crash down; for it will seem, when you lick my flesh
you can not be satisfied with my sweat, my cum
your tongue will be seeking out the taste of other girls
in the curves and contours of my skin













i am not other girls; i never will be