217. Retraction

I am interested in the way beings produce light
and where they choose to reflect it.
Then there's you, my sugar-wolf,
devour being your verb
of choice. And it's always choice,
isn't it?

You do not want to be your parents,
your brothers. I do not want to be the person
that wastes away while you figure out how
to forgive them. Or the invisible blood
that makes you run
from your body.

I think your skin is beautiful.
All the places you've been, and I will argue
that you smell like you've been dusted in heaven.
Even after you've covered me in teeth marks.

You don't always have to play
the villain or the coward. I can only say please
so many times before my tongue
falls out. A person gets tired. There is so much more
to you than this.

216.

The street wearing a thin garment
of snow. In the kitchen, you pray
for the sound of a glass
breaking. Instead, the hum
of the appliances. You shout at the
refrigerator. It is no excuse.
Because you tasted the sweetness
of not being alone.

215. Addendum (Blizzard of February 2013)

Don't worry,
You're safe now.
You can roam
The entire city
With your clothes off,
Without having
To think of me.

214. Suicide Attempt #18.5

If your mother is in the garage
with the car running
that means it is Tuesday.

On Wednesday, only one of you
will remember this faux pas
and for the rest of your life

You will be the one who remembers
the most in any pairing.

*

By Thursday,
everything is a weapon.
You are dreaming

Of your little sister again
and the monsters she does not need
saving from.

You have all grown up
into different kinds of flowers
and creatures.

213. Premature Hauntings

I began writing about you
long before we met.

Strange little prophecies,
bloodied roses thrown
on the snow.

They call this the wolf moon.
I would like for you to come over
and devour me.

212. Plight of the Cartographer (Please Come Home)

You want to be made
out of maps? 
It's too late 
             for that,
love.

211. War

Be selfish.
Dig into him
with your bare hands.
The sky will be red
no matter which path
you choose.
Cover your knuckles
in little plums
and do not apologize.
Not everyone wants
the olive branch,
least of all you,
you cold sad thing,
living on animal
instincts. Let the winter
turn your bones
into steel. Do not stop
for anyone, do not
turn back, for risk
of snapping your neck.
Bury it. Do not come back
until spring.