What a thrill I thought
To sock you in the stomach
Right in the guts
The o-shaped comic book mouth acquiescing as I might expect
Watching
Feeling
My fist pushing, twisting, t-shirt
White
Around my knuckles, pulling out globs of you
…of who you thought you were
Dough
…of who you said you were
Sticking to my fingers I, in a panic
Flick to the floor
Still parts will not come off
My fingers pop and mock
I think I might fall to the ground and scrape the residual of him off like mud
Splaying my fingers where dry
Crackling in the lines of my hands
Flakes of you come off
What a thrill I thought
No comments:
Post a Comment