We dressed alike, in black that night
And hoped the rain would disappear.
It soaked us to the bone.
Once with hands around a heart,
I cradled you,
Now
these fingertips are digging into meat.
Left on the boil too long,
the flavour bland.
Did you taste sweetness once or
was it cruelty, well placed,
formally yours.
I would stand and face you
like that night.
Palms collecting rain, shoulder blades
like wings jutting out from angry flesh.
I am no angel now dear,
bleach on my lips ,
running a blade from my legs. The ones
attached to the doormat,
the open rose,
the wrap around wrists.
And the dry, red husk that rests
between each lung.
