cough on coffee leftovers

love love love

love love love buzzes through me worse than electricity you've
made me manic, dear,
made me forsake all i've achieved hooked me like a pear on a branch
flag on a beach swaying left and right where ever your breeze takes me
used to love the taste of heartbreak now all i want's your face in my life and when you're gone as well,

just my luck.

like a sculpture in moma you're unreachable but very desired,
expensive and i'm paying in bits of me.

my back's getting tired carrying bits of you everywhere i go like an eternal wanderer hair
golden from foreign suns.

you've always preferred black,
and skin
almost royally blue and mine's
withered with desert sand shuffled to brown
down
below fiftieth street where we used to meet under the yellow light you would say the city moon made me pale
now i live out here and you're
where i left you i think

i still think
i left you.

would you forgive the small lie?
i've not got as much fight
in me as i used to when you said you liked it,

going out slowly like a lighter out of gasoline.

i'd read your letters and be quite keen,
but you don't send any.

must be your lack of petty
cash, starving artists don't write on parchment and we know you won't settle for less.

i'm impressed
by your lack of interest in what happened next,

who was after you,

whose is my afternoon,

and who'd be keeping me blue,

if it wasn't for you.