Victor.

He placed an apple on my head
then interlaced the fingers of my
right hand with that of his left
and caressed my digits, just
before he shot me, we were holding
hands, and there was still glory
in love, still blood that I could
spill, in wars, for him, oh love! I will!
I'll go to the hill with the jacket and the
gun and fight for you, our country and son
if nothing ever works out from now on
remember I loved you and more importantly
that you won.

Ask for it.

Creeping in, that same
familiar bruised feeling
spreads across my hips
as I eye up the ceiling
and look for a cloud
and hear a noise and
come back down and
you're still inside me
but you don't make
a sound and the pillows
drown out all you need
to know- the hope that I had
when I met you in the bar
isn't the same hope that I felt
driving back in someone elses
car and dreaming about
driving it into a wall when after
I fall I come back up to the ceiling
and see, you are still, you are still inside me
waiting for the moment to make me
prey, pray, pray, love, sleep, it all
ceases when that feeling seeps
back in to the skin of my hips;
the bruise that you gave me,
the love that we made in a bed
that's not mine is just another
way of passing the time
fruitlessly; give me the works of
Keats and I'll give you the Odyssey
when I'm on my back and I can't
feel my legs, oh what will you do
when I leave this bed? What will
you say to the other girls
the skinny, the singer, the one
with the pearls and the big, big
heart- I am
bruised;
don't ever
ever
do that
to me
again.