Flattered that you think I warrant ugliness. Gutters
Drain west, mud made a mess of us. It's time to leave
This place. I'd saw through your wrist to find a
Better trap that fits. I'd saw through your traps to
Find a better you, a part of you that lasts. I saw
Through your trap and into my own wrists. Saw we were
Through, red ribbons spill to blue: a sight to sore
Your eyes. I got this dress. I'm hiking it around
This waste of laughter. Slow dance alone with no one
To the sound of four hands clapping. Congratulations
To you both, I hope somewhere you're happy. If
There's a moral to this story then I wish you'd show
Me. Hair in the blood, fly in the disappointment.
Rubber, I'm glue. I'll write the book on you. It's
Sticking to my face. You need a little less than what
You take for granted. This is the sip that's drinking
Back from you, blacking out your eyes. You need a
Little more suppression of your appetites. This is
Your honeymoon, in separate rooms, it's neither sweet
Nor bright. I made a word to give this state a name,
This game a guess. I call it "sluttering". It means
As little as your little test. You are your worst
Revenge. Your very means, they have no ends. This is
A story you won't tell the kids we'll never have. If
You hear this song a hundred times it still won't be
Enough.
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