Spit and Resignation

I have a lot of love to give
and my love’s nearly sweet.
It’s made of poetry and paint
of touch and anxious acid
of squinting eyes
and tasting sweat.
My love’s tart and hard to stomach.
Bright colors and foraging for where you left things.
My fingers feel broken
from pulling out of wells
and valleys.
Valleys I stumbled down chasing wind
. avoiding the snow.
I write a love song over and over again
you spit out every chance I get to
look away from sharp magnesium burning
as if it doesn’t sit in my skin screaming loud and desperate.
Your love is tearing eyes and frustration.
Your love is quiet and damaged.
Your love is all mirror // no glass.
My love is tugging and rejection.
loudly forgetting and power in fingertip.
— a sour spit I can’t hold on my tongue longer than a second.
— a heavy blood tired of being itself
of living quiet and held underwater
of living behind sheets of muffling outside noise
Noise that sits between buzz and alarm.
Both, both.
of scrambling in exterior world that is exhausted from me too.
– a million times I was chewed.

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