i used to think that there was magic in those big blue eyes of yours;
your messy, curly hair,
crooked, dimpled smile,
hooked & crooked nose.
i used to think that i could see my future in your hands;
with clinging, grasping, rubber bands
and travels across many lands,
our hearts transfixed, transposed.
i used to think your voice was sweet,
like stale, spongy, honey treats,
that stick to bottles, bare and beat,
that melt like adipose.
but now i think you’re sunken wax:
a vat of acid,
pile of tacks,
a burning corpse upon its back
frozen in boxers pose.
a mound of clotted, rotted flesh,
an open wound,
a black abscess,
a lack of love,
a lack of less,
the anchor of your woes.
i used to think you were a ship,
that sailed down my dock and dipped
upon my shoreline,
soft and slipped with
nothing left to offer.