lovebug
Your brain spilled like wine
Roots severed in gory detail
Thorn's twist around the vine,
I loved that you were not fine.
And you ate my leftovers
greedily: an apple core, a slice of salami and my chocolate cake
infantile on the couch curled, my
Caterpillar cucooned in bedcovers.
I loved that you died
by my side
Reverse birth and I knew you'd do it
I knew you'd done it when I walked
through the door
and it smelt like silk.
In the kitchen, where the hob held some sort of memory
I thought of how my red legacy spilt through
the white duvet,
And how
you could never make a fuss when I didn't stay
And how you could never really cook,
though you tried to.
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