your lips upon mine,
setting my skin on fire
you were an outlet of energy
eager to use my cord
you remedied yourself
with a hundred kisses
and i received ninety nine of them
the hundredth disappeared
in another girl's hands
i remedied myself
with a hundred i love you's
and you received none of them
because you had given me
a false heart
and given yours
to someone with more energy
and even as my words leave me
and your phone dies
i still have electricity written
on my arm, in black ink
a thin cord that wraps around my neck
and strangles our relationship
i gave you a hundred conversations
and you threw them away
because they didn't fit
in your false heart
YOU ARE READING
What's Wrong
Poetrysome of these might not make sense but trust me neither does my mind