THE BLOG
07/25/2013 09:36 am ET Updated Sep 24, 2013

Ugly

Ugly

I remember the points in time, like constellations,
when your hands were still warm
and the floating starships of your fists made galactic mist,
red dwarves to kiss my skin
the space between time and the when and the how
and the why was stretched thin, transparent
you talk too much
I bleed too quickly, our shared mouths taste of cinnamon
and then you ask me
if there's anything else I can give you after I've sewn the last stitch shut
you bitch,
you succubus.