Aren’t you the black hole
into which I throw things
that never land,
and never bounce back?
My words don’t echo,
I let you steal my
every apology,
they lay like velvet
in the smooth pocket
of your mouth
before you swallow them down–
Jun
19
intake
Leave a Comment
May
24
Or,
The Bound Woman
You like my hands
tied behind my back
so my breasts jut,
so my head hangs,
so my chest aches.
You like my throat sore
so I can’t sing to you,
so I can’t declare war,
so I can’t chant magic
to release us
from each other.
Someday,
these ropes will rot.
Someday,
I will walk past you
and you will wonder why
you can’t get up
and follow me.
