it’s too late and blood splattered on the golden rug,
in our winter home, you meet me halfway in the hall and turn back around,
the void grows with each passing breath,
i smell like distress and pain,
come cling to the shreds of your purple night, rushing in and smoking weed and then disappearing.
the only wrathful wave came in midnight agony,
sirens and gut-wrenching cries,
slip in white light and you’ve got me on the floor wanting more and less,
I pretend black bones meet brittle desire,
as you conspire and travel and meet thorns and pink dripping love,
that slipped into my night and crushed all unruly sentiment.
in spite of it all, come rushing to me, black and blue and bruised and bleeding,
sore and reeling in the trials of dirty nights and cigarettes.
I am home in your curse.