sideways down our perfect
backs. where, beneath perfect
lived slanted warmth.
a love untethered.
suicide hair watching over me;
splits and trickery never fail
to hold me closer to
truest love-
the unconditional survey
pulse. beat one beat two
beat three ever more.
depleted corners of our
rooms become finite solids.
and I, once again, am an
again in unloved buried
marrow. the in between of when
my skins left yours,
for thine own.
