blanketed by a critus smile
your splash of sincerity evades me
your aim not at fault
i just have no faith left
for it to stick to
it is strange how in just
a few short months
i can look back on myself
like a stranger
and you
(whom i loved?!)
are like cumulous clouds
dull day after day
with your threats of thunder
and promises of passion
i await the blue flame!
doused in nutmeg!
wrapped in white linen!
but as you pass over me
there is no torrid sea
no humid embrace
just pools cooling
in the small of my back
i stare at my hands
and wonder
how they got
so far away
i keep expacting you
to fade
to wake up one morning
and not care
so i
keep myself
one carefully measured step away
in anticipation
of your love's decline
so when your cheek turns
amd your attention
wanders
elsewhere
my heart will not be left
all awkward
hanging
from an elastic thread
you forgot to pull off
your old pair of socks
for it's in your nature to
lose interst suddenly
we are both artisits
who suck the marrow out
of each lovely bone
it just happens to be
my lovely bones
this time
how bare.
i'm writing
this letter to tell you
i don't love you anymore.
i don't miss you.
i never have.
the truth is, i
tried, but never found
your adoration
anything other than arduous,
your niceties cliched,
your praise thoughtless,
and it has becomed
unbearably obvious
that you love me with
all the originality
or romance novels;
the manly man weakening
the lucious flower.
but do not be sad.
nothing is lost,
neither of us even loved
the other truly-
you only thought you did
and i only wanted to.
