semblance of regret.

I looked for you […] even as I picked my clothing from a motel room floor, my lips raw-damp from another woman’s kisses, as I drove out of the parking lot, burning headlight smoldered haze– you were the mist, always forming, always beyond grasp, airy and fleeting.

i have thrown up three times that day already and/you wanted to make sure i could hear in your voice how much you didn’t care anymore/the waning sun-light drenches my pores and everyone sees me how you do.

Love—decipher me / Speak me with your first tongue

Must I saint               myself at the altar of your thighs, house               your sweat, cross myself three times before               bells chime for more salt. Wound me instead.