tell me this is real

I will not call you
Or paint you into existence with the dying of the sun
Orange chair
Please hold me here
For this longing stretches across these grey carpets
And there is no room for begging in grace

Will you smile on me the way the movie boys do
Will you watch me from your afar
Before you come to hold my hand
Will the music
Tell us that everything ends just fine

Don’t hold back your words
I am waiting for you
To be near
Don’t hide your fears
Mine are baked and dusted
Ready to be eaten
by our hungry tears

But today I will not call you
Flicking through the pages of our past
I will live there a little longer
until you whisper in my hair
and tell me this dreaming is real

There is danger in the curve of your lip.
I smell it dripping from your skin...
right before you release...
it claws at my ribcage
gnawing to open
raw!

and panting
I watch as love gushes to the floor.
she is rich with wet
red ribbons of surrender
cascading down soft porcelain flesh...
emptied!

she gropes hungered for more.
blindly tugging at you from beneath furniture
where you gather dust
reluctant as a forgotten sock!
caught on the splinters of time...

her anxious needs tear you to pieces
she weeps over your shredded corpse
glad you too are in pieces.