Note:love...

Every time the phone rings I hope it's him. He calls sometimes, tells me that he's clean, to please come back. And I'm so lonely. I still wear the silly plastic mood ring he gave me on our second date; the cheap rainbow necklace; the awful bead bracelet. Trinkets that make me cry each time my eyes whisper down to them, flutter across the landscape of pain and betrayal. I feel him near me each time I step outside. His voice in my head, the echo of his cell phone ringing inside of me each time I lay my head down. The rivers he cut through my body can not be easily healed. They burn and itch, and bleed when racked by nail fresh tears and old blood. You can't go back, they bubble. Look at how he treated you, those sleepless nights and wakeful days. Remember the drugs he forced through every orifice in your body, and when he couldn't find one, he would open a stitch himself. Plump plumb carvings, juice stains that write so painfully. Chilling me to the broken bone and spliced lip. There is nothing for my soul here, nothing for my body to digest and move upon. But God, how I still hear your voice in the dead of night. When I lay awake thinking of your beautiful penis inside of me, sliding so far deep I feel the soft puncture of ruptured organs. I love you so much, you whisper between sex-breath. I'm scared too, so please come back to me; we can be scared together, and teach each other. I can live without you, but I'll be miserable. My life will be…incomplete? I look into your dark eyes that pool so dilated and empty. I stare at the roughness of your chest, the soft fur and relaxed muscles. You stab against me, but it seems that instead of a penis between your legs, you have the broken half of a Stem Pipe. The long plastic tunnel pounds away at my insides until I'm pulverized. The feelings come and go so sadistically, and ride against all the things that I wanted to hear you say. My mood ring distracts me. It has lips of silver, and tongue of pale blue. A perpetual pale anxiety; juxtapose to my heart.