“
Sunday, I crack your skull to find that
what comes leaking out
spells my name
Monday, I hold your hand so hard that
there are tears in your eyes
you press our fingers together, silence
Tuesday, you find the cigarette burns on my thighs
‘did you do this? I love you.’
you kiss me till I am healed
Wednesday, there are no words
we talk with tongues
I bite your mouth until blood
Thursday, our ribs together
look like an art installation
I cannot stand the beauty of us
Friday, I leave
I am destructive and you are
spun sugar, a wine glass, fragile
Saturday, ———————-
—————————- “pick up
I miss you the most.”
Sunday, I crack my skull to find that
what comes leaking out
spells your name
”
-
Azra.T., “VII”