"this bed ain't big enough
for the both of us" she says,
turning away from you, as always,
onto her side and into that
puddle of blood that you drew.
she sighs with feigned innocence
and rolls again, over onto her chest
mopping up the dampness with the bedding
as she sucks it up around her
conveyor belt skin.
once again, she has robbed you of
more than just warmth.
but, you see, it is all necessary;
it is essential that she insulate
this melting black heart of hers.
of course, any paper bag would do
but she must clothe herself
in your satin sheets;
she must bury herself
in her restraint.
she will strangle herself
in those sheets again tonight
while you lay uncovered,
awake and alone in
this cold dark silence.
oh, how she hogs your heart
the way she hogs this bed.
this unhealthy process has gone on
too long; this thawing and freezing
and heating and cooling will turn
these perishable delicacies
to a poison which only you will taste.
a heart, fuzzy with freezer burn,
slowly rotting away from the inside;
a memory of a meal; that object that
someone forgot to throw out.
