Loose Change

I dig into the open wounds of self preservation, and hear ...from way over there, my love jingling in your pocket as if it were the loose change in your wet dreams. You were always numb to the mirror, taking comfort in the blind eyed discontent you've reigned in with hard strokes of denial, making your makeup seem a little more made up in the dim lighting of reflection. Don't you think? It was never about making love, it was about forgetting. My hips were a glowing red exit sign, on the route of ....screwing life away. Each moan, a promise that even though you were dead inside, you could still make a piece of the world shake. Maybe even make something break. And that made everything seem a bit more tolerable... until I started thanking you for the damage inflicted. The pain I felt, assurance that I was alive. I'm not sure why that took the fun out of it for you.. I still screamed bloody murder when you sunk your teeth into newly adjusted nerve endings.. The pain, more real than ever before. I guess you never meant to take a ride with someone just as damaged as you. You were hoping to be the only ghost in this city, still bound to a carnal playhouse. But baby.. I was a corpse long before I had any change to spare. -James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.