Stay a Minute

Poetry to scratch your eyes out to.

You taste like a snuffed match smells. 

charred, used the flame and reduced yourself to cells. 

Scarred flesh, ridged scabs all the places I told you I love you. 

marble counters, chilled floors, bodies fall from the ceiling two by two. 

I remember the feeling of bug husks? legs and dust pushed across the window sill by my fingers. 

You promised the feeling, the pain and the blood stains wouldn't linger. 

Stay a minute, please.

It wasn't me, it was the disease. 

I've fucked my life every time I fucked you for a chance at a better one. 

Blue eyes lie, in the dark, in the sun. 

An altar made of bodies we piled in the living room. 

A bed sunk low, it made my tomb. 

Stay a fucking minute, You don't have a choice. 

I'll die for the sixty seconds before you run out of breath, run out of voice. 

A corpse I let rot inside me, inside the spots of my mind I want to forget. 

I wish I felt something else, anything else; you took it all, left me with less than I had and a cigarette. 

I broke the glass heart to find out what's in it. 

No matter how much I cut, I would never fit. 

I don't feel much when you tell me to die. 

I focus on the ash that's falling outside the window and the dying fly. 

I've eaten this before, 

I can't get enough, You'd think it's something I adore. 

Killing you will always be easier than finding the door. 

Photo by Axel Eres on Unsplash