November 21, 2016

I fall a thousand times before morning,
spitting out handscribbled love notes,
Muse uses my tongue as loose scratch paper
and spells out galaxies I wish I could speak the languages of
but only when there’s no one around.

I’ve learned to fear love more than a chainsaw
because love can cut me in more pieces.
So I buy a chainsaw from his steel-tipped sentences
I don’t know the difference between them and
the love notes that fall off my tongue.

Falling apart’s better than a mistaken pen taking over
my sandpaper earthquake throat
I’ve learned to fear love more than your fingers
because even when they’re not wrapped around my hand or my face or my neck
I always end up with a nosebleed.

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