She smiled with an expression that’s
no longer there
She looks so pretty when she’s on her knees
She sighed and let the monsters into her lungs
And the doubt poured out of my ears like lava

I get that familiar burn in my chest
Whenever I pull the bottle out of the bottom drawer
blindfolded by the 100% recycled material made brown paper bag

she still wears her lover
like a scarf around the choke-line bruises

I still expect him to care

She’s so lovely when she’s bound
to the threadbare frameworks
and she always wears her sandals on Monday’s
Maybe it’s her way of forgetting that it’s another week
escaping the conformities of death trodden aspirations
We’re living fast and dying way too damn old
We’re shedding skins that never exactly grew on us

She still sighs when he touches her
and we’re bound to the night stand
bound to the candle waxen floor boards

Just as soft ivory, she pulled her knees to her chest
silenced her toes and pretended it didn’t hurt
Only because she wanted him to enjoy it

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