11:08 pm / Saturday, Mar. 24, 2007
I search through sheets—can’t sleep here anymore.
lipstick smudged from the last time we spent
laying in my bed
Your taste of medicine too strong.
Menstrual blood stains the cuff of
where she weeps--the black
Mascara crusts against her pale peach skin
and through again
to the place where she lay.
This memory a friend to me
where I sit pondering my constant state of
pure defeat surrounds my head
this bed-- a grave.
how many times have I died here?
How many times can I expect to be reborn?
Here is the spot where I kissed you
collarbones touch awkwardly
as you lay your frame atop of me.
we reach for lips to kiss the spots
knots in our stomachs
we're learning. .
Your hands are small but strong
they force from me a deep depression
bruises pulled not punctured.
fingerprints still pressed soft into cotton
where you held yourself above me.
I sit in us.
sit in our memory.
the stain you leave on me
the stain remains in me
the springs of mattresses.
cries again inside my frame.