I wake itching
Monday morning
your scent
permeating from
the pillow
buried in my skin
Your tarnished ring
on the night stand
A glass of midnight water
dully gleams back
reflecting last night
into my opal eyes
Unconscious fingertips
claw away
tearing
little pieces of you
left buried in
my too thin of skin
Cleaning
bloody nails
painting self portraits
on your white sheets
a souvenir,
a memento
to say the least.
-wrote this on 11/20/2008
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