the last thing

(One poem then I PROMISE I'm going back to my hw)

I tasted your lips in the winter time they were waxed of blistex
wet from your tongue sweet like a dagger grimised with revenge
I took out my arm, exposed my flesh pulling back cotton sleeves with veins facing you
But you bit me.

I remained frozen while your venium has consistently cooled my heart
I've melted into this person who you despise
relives kindled memories from your lethal words the night before
And dwells in stupidity--idol with you, to be subject for more
of course people stay for love
when love is the last thing they do.

I've stitched mended pieces and found some weaving glue
to tape along the tracks in the back
of my head that replayed your lethal words the night before
cutting the red meat under my tongue with Central American blades

You'd prefer me silent without simple emotions.
And new friends are like an equilibrium of our demise (for both of us)
showing the missing variables where contempt has failed
I hold on to the beautiful memories in civics and hondas that were fondled with
fondled with
fondled with sinful blessings...
But of course we stay for love
when love is the last thing we do.