Closeness

it was never really about the
sound of cheap liquor splashing against
even cheaper plastic sides or the
way my body felt,
numb, buzzed,
after snorting a few wishful thoughts
off my own shattered image
my eyes glittering like star fragments and misplaced hopes
it's just...
forty seemed so old to me once
with my head in a hole and
your mouth on my leg
and i didn't want my children to grown enough to realize
the frayed ivy patterns on my skin,
what they meant and how they came to be
and repeat me like the lesson
my own mother spat
sharper than acid rain down my shoulders
(sometimes i wish i drank just to drink
and then other times i think i just need another sip)
but no
i'm not any stronger
my size 5 hollister jeans still cling to my drying leg and
the shower might hide my screams now but
they still whisper in the heated air
calligraphy lined in bloody confessions upon smooth flesh and
i don't know how to quit,
even promising i would
even knowing i should
...but the finesse of my misunderstanding seemed so beautiful and
flowed so much freer down my thigh than he
ever thought to with her disgusting proportions next to his knee...
oh, fuck
how the envy stings like barbed wire kisses upon me
but how great the result feels
a gentle reminding hand running patiently over your thoughts and
between your hazy makeshift eyelids
it doesn't give a shit who you are, what you weigh, or what you look like,
it'll be there for you no matter what
our closeness is such that wherever i lay my head
in the softness underneath i'll feel it,
keeping time to the stagger of my pulse
and i wonder
how i could've ever given this love up
or all that it entails
no matter how alone it makes me
and no matter how many times it locks me up
inside a treasure chest
built of ice and metaphors
i'm off the map, i don't have anything
i fell like a guillotine or life sentence upon my own flesh...
i'm sorry, it jus feels so nice to just cut out all my problems sometimes.