you looked at me
and washed your hands
I resembled you too much
wishing you could take it back
not her face
and a punch turned into words
my bed collapsed
all I could think of was your face
I’ve drawn outside the lines
and a voice that is not mine tells me to die
you held the phone to let me know
I held the phone to call the police
I thought I had a saviour though
who said that touch could never eviscerate a soul
the way you pushed the pedal
made me kill you in my head
I thought I jumped out of your car
and you continued to die
there was not enough on the table
and we played with knives
I left the side door open
who knows whether I might return
they put my brother into the ground
and all I see is your mouth without a sound
she unleashed him onto her
a mirror makes things disappear
your face pretends to smile
something’s wrong and I can’t say why
ripper of apertures
I must oblige
I turned myself into
what made your mouth water
I was convinced that I had rebelled
but everything I touched I couldn’t feel
Croque-Melpomene 