all off me

3.10.2017

all of me fits
in a nike box, dumped off
return to sender –
meanwhile my 20×12 room remains
a testament to you.
memento mori tears
the pit in my stomach builds
acid-refluxing towers, and i hope
that the New Me, the one
who you will love for all time
(in sickness and health, through
good times and bad, et cetera)
will love you back as much as i do
(in depression and serenity, through
bliss and fuckups, et cetera)
broken as i am.

73 pounds of failure
for sale at the butcher’s block
going for nothing
yet with no interested buyers.
i can see why you walked away.
i can see it all – ribcage like
jailor’s bars, shriveled breasts
and thigh-gap legs that won’t fill
clothes. palms forever open
in surrender, pleading for one…
one more talk, one more kiss, please
don’t say goodbye like this.

don’t let the end be a post-it
about four hundred bucks
and when you love her now, new fresh
sparkling relationship of promise
i hope that the stain
washes all off me.

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