oh, oh, ohhh
the night came down on our throats like a knife---bloodrush.
blood became like oil, valuable and easily set alight. the crux, the crux, the crux,
in amounts we've measured with such anticipation, we've timed and formulated.
the roots of our teeth soon shake at the sight of your shadow,
ghost of a shadow of yours. Still
lingering in the halls of the apartment,
moments we would otherwise forget still mask the routine smells of the kitchen,
Down your throat through your nose out your ears. Familiar notes on the baby grand do not reckon recollection. you tip-toe-ing
down the road with a hand full of all-purpose-cleaners,
you wrapped in scarves upon scarves trying to set yourself
aflame by the embers that do no justice
to your intent.
Nor I, yes sir.
New year's still comes by like a one-night-stand-in,
all slinky and come-hither leaning on the door frame offering up absolution.
i throw a tantrum in the middle of the floor, reeling, wriggling, screaming,
t(ee)ring, t(ehrr)ing up cheats sheets and
other tearable objects of fury.
You with your commonplace smirk
do nothing but sprawl across the bed as if nothing happens, as if you cannot hear
"bonjour tristesse...Tu es inscrite dans les yeux que j'aime"