when i think about your touch
i feel so sick.
the scabs on my tongue remind me
of your kisses
and all the things you'd say.
one day my pain will be poetic.
i still remember
the cop car as it sped along the
neighbourhood chasing you
in your white minivan.
i bet you felt so stupid.
you said you used to think that
the city we lived in was way under ground
and that if we dug chunks out of the sky
we'd finally get to see the sun
in our new home.
i've punched you so many times.
now,
even now,
you're still giving me scars.
your grave cuts up my hand.
i was so afraid of "getting used to it"
that i didn't notice i've become predictable.
you smile from where you are buried,
i can tell.
you smile at me as you watch me go mad.
you smile when you visit me in dreams.
lighting your cigarette and throwing the butt
over your shoulder,
you smile and say,
"you can only die once."
but you and i both know
that was just to mess with my head.
— galaxy.
