Do you know how
frustrating it is to
bite
my
tongue?
You toss words around with such casualty
you make a mockery of my art






of my (he)art.

I leaned my hip on the back of your chair and let my hands rest

slight
atop your head







just to see…
Just to see what you would do
once I walked away,





fingertips trailing,
leaving your forehead


cold.
You leaned your head back,



eyes closed,





into the space where my

palm had just been.
So I laced my fingers back through your
pre-maturely graying hair

and watched you press brow to my belly
and sigh…

“This is why I need one of you to keep. One of your sex, I mean.”









[to keep to keep]
“one of you”…?







to keep
Please just say













“Not you”
—
You’re just worthless


You’re one in a million —






(keep me)
You talk of ex-lovers


tossing around names
like a magician
an illusionist
a juggler
with a thousand glass orbs.


Never mind if one




Falls
and




Breaks,


There will always be more.
You tell me not to worry,
that I am immune from the damage and disease you
inflict on female hearts

And how can I tell you



that all I want is for you to
I N F E C T
M E

(I want you in my arteries.











Be my






cardiac arrest.)