The doors slam and I am screaming at you “slut.”
The chairs topple as I threaten, screaming, but
I’m too you to go.
Your breasts crush into my chest — you turn to sand
In my tight encircling arms. I love you and
I’m too you to stay.
You throw plates against the floor — you run to get
Your black jacket and your keys. You’re certain, yet
You’re too me to go.
You kiss hard, smear lipstick in your passion, lust.
Your thin fingers cut into my flesh — I trust
You’re too me to stay.
Our bright passion-dance will burn us, make us glow
With dark love devouring us so we know
We’re too us, so stay.
Originally published at http://troycamplinpoetry.blogspot.com.