Razorblade Romance

putrid pink

the pepto bismol sunrise reminds
of the sickness we call love

a festering wound
kept open and raw
with your short comings
and ever longer gones

in my life you spend
heartbeat moments

nanoseconds of need

long enough to snare
to imprint my dreams
with your assassins smile

hating myself for wanting
wanting what I hate
knowing now shame

burns like eyes
full of unshed tears

following     tripping
trailing red ribbons of my devotion
when close enough

leaning in for another slice

you cut deeper each time
with your razorblade romance

but beware boy

I grow stronger
despite the slow exsanguinations
bleeding you out

while infusing self

maybe next time you come
with your sugar tongue
and eager fingertips

maybe  you
yes   You

will be the one left bleeding