You were the termite my mahogany never saw coming.
I thought I was strong,
but you were sweet,
you smelled like the cherry wood I had always wanted by my side,
you talked of a house,
on the side of a mountaintop where we could see or children grow and the sky curvem.
I remember vividly the first time you took a bite out of my stomach.
It had have been an omen,
no one else had ever made me feel that sort of pain.
It made you special.
I stuck around to find out what such pain could mean.
You had a look,
that could make me forget my thoughts,
stumble over my words
until I gave up and remained silent.
Often times it was because you were just too lazy
to strangle the words out of me.
I still ache for your teeth marks on my wrists,
your hand gripping my neck
and your fist,
thrust through the wall next to me.
And baby,
I hate that things are so organized without you
I miss the blood stains on the towels hanging from the railing in my bathroom,
miss the pictures filled with broken glass.
I miss your salty lies in the corner of my mouth,
still miss you pinning me to the bed,
I still miss sex feeling like rape
I like it when I have something to cry about,
like it when the blood reminds me of my life,
I liked finding pieces of my flesh left in your teeth.
I makes me feel like I belong to you.
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