she treated me as if she webbed her fingers in my chest
as i was breathing because of her hand.
i had said, “You do not understand: it TAKES.”
once i had to stay on the words
they were wrapped around and between us
like s(k)ewers.
but i tenaciously b(r)ought myself
to consider the impression:
that’d she’d fuck me, just to make sure (and not ‘love’)
i’d stick around:
an insurance policy, a contract.
a certain kind of bitterly. like a gun, or a noose,
and a skill.
i stood then on the edge of some greater importance
for i didn’t want her and her misunderstanding: it was walking.
but she cried
and said, “you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
maybe that’s why, no body listens.