You thrust through me—with with your thumbs pressed into my hips
My blood smears between my thighs,
onto the white towel,
I flip the picture frames on your headboard facedown.
When we’re done
I run my fingertips along the rack of her clothing in your room
and think what nice style she has.
You ask me if I want to clean off in the shower;
I think to myself
I don’t think that’s going to be enough.
I haven’t flossed in a while,
I tear the bills out of their envelopes
And leave them all over the apartment
Snarling at me in toothy stacks.
A piece of soggy dog food floats in the bowl,
It’s time to get out of here.
Jim sits next to Maker’s Mark
and Four Roses.
I sit next to—
We sit in silence,
You poke at peas with a fork,
I know we are done.
October has been so uncharacteristically warm
on this blueblack night
tangled in reeds
and blankets on the beach,
salt spray and moon milk pouring over us;
fall from our mouths
as easily as the wine flows in;
punctuated by tannic kisses.
You said you wanted someone to make you feel alive,
I wont apologize
for setting you on fire.