Habit
Hourglass of spider’s ink
upon your lower back.
Your love, a kind of love
that’s kind of an attack.
Smoking skin pressed onto my own
in messy overtones of kisses.
Stole my love before I could escape.
Less like love, more like rape.
Introduced me to those words
I never used before
Drugs paraphernalia
kit cut whore
**** score more
words I never used before
Sometimes I get chills.
You say, “probably coming down with something.”
I say, “Yeah,”
“you.”
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