Your words
Seep blood into thirsty parchment,
Opening vein after rotten vein
Of dusty stories;
Isn't your jaw aching
Weighed with the heavy staleness
Of all you forgot before it
Could be spokenshruggedoff?
I remember how familiar my
Hand feels wrapped round your throat.
Your eyes glazed over before they rolled
Back, and your back arched in
Such protest of my presence,
I almost felt remorse.
