i touch
the tattoos
on your neck
because they’re
the only thing which
seems to make sense in
this like your eyes used to
on tuesday morning in sheets
at your beds edge is where i used
to spend time in all of this
where lights flickered
in heat of morning
in dawn before
hell broke us
and i said
to take
me
to
darker
places like
underneath you
in wake of what we
truly were supposed to be
your eyes in mine broken by
levels of men in essence before lies
became moments enthralled in emotion
disguised by errors of our eve struck
by terror in truth we find horror
but in ourselves is where we
find broken bits twined
with bliss broken
hearts they save
near drawers
by the bed
we used
to lie
in
in our past lust is where our truth lied