Our words are a heavy foot on the accelerator;
memories that just won’t let up
revving up the engine tucked away
in your chest.
I know that when you think about it,
you get light headed,
maybe even a little drowsy,
and then you stop caring
because where we parked our
car has always been crowded.
You see, the fumes can be dea
If you’re not careful.
—————-> If we don’t get out every now
and again, fresh air might become
toxic to our mutated affirmations.
I only know this because,
I’ve learned to love the feeling
of your hands around my throat,
and you used to be so sweet.
It’s hard to breathe in here,
watching you swallow my
**** and grin like I’ve given
you flowers for the first time,
you don’t even like flowers.
I don’t know where we’re going,
you keep …laying your foot
to the floor, breathing harder,
like you can actually smell our
brain cells dying.
And all I can smell is your perfume,
that ridiculously exotic potion that
your grandmother buys when we
visit, insisting that two taps on the
wrist will make you smell just like
Marilyn Monroe did…
I never thought that something
so beautiful would reek of death.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.