MAGNET

We slept
with that mortal furrow between our beaks
chanting tales of mirth to repress in our wake
with the gleaming burst of a tear,
that oh so foul deluge towering above our necks
bringing the lethargic choking
of my days gone by.

Inevitably, I gravitate towards the sinful,
seducing the harrowing laces of
graceful spite and spit

A proficient drama slut
opening the legs to every
promise of pain that erects
before any orifice of hope.

You spoke of the danger
you so dearly embraced
and the parallels to cinema tragedy
(I have heard this before,
an impulsive like you who
conjured up the Romeo and Juliet cliché
as my alcohol breath desiccated the torrential weeping )
Yes; I have heard about romanticizing tragedy
and I yet kept silent
incase you should
flee
from my naughty mania for self-infliction.

I now indulge in the possibilities of pain:
the pounding solitude perched upon the eyes,
the screeching aches between my legs,
the fears of betrayal and the hideousness
of my own temptations,
the numbing edge of time,
and that smile I shall never conceive.