poem about an unstable woman in a failing relationship |
you always tell me that my mouth tastes like the zero-calorie soda that i am completely and shamelessly addicted to. it fills me up without filling me out, i laugh back, kissing the transparent skin of your eyelids. you always liked skinny girls, right? you let a frown pucker your face, and that little crease in between your brows makes me want to laugh and kiss your knuckles and scrape my pupils off with razorblades so that i will never see you unhappy ever [never ever ever] again. i smile the best i can without letting the sobs break through my white, ribbon lips. the next day i wake up not to the sounds of your slightly congested breathing but to the soft muffled groans of your crying. i don’t ask what is wrong because you probably just realized what a fat, ugly whore i am, with my halo of dark, mussed hair and lipstick smeared across my lips like the semen on my thighs. i don’t rub your shoulders and i don’t kiss it all better, and you cry and cry and cry till your vocal cords are just frayed pieces of scratching-post material. i sit, letting anorexia plait my hair with braids thick enough to strangle myself with, and your shoulders shake like earthquakes or my numb fingers, until i stretch like a lazy lion across your bed and cover your trembling lips with my warm tongue. fucking under the light of our fading dreams, i wonder, can you taste these words that i scream? |