Apr 20, 2016 by

I know her name,

and that in itself

is knowing too much.

The first syllable

lingers in your mouth,

a moan,

and slides into an acronym

forI love you

but he did not love her.


Sometimes I taste her,

poison dangling on his tongue,

dripping through his thoughts.

It took him a long time

to stop saying “my girlfriend”

and switch to “my ex”—

still in the mindset

he belonged to her,

even when he wore my body

like a new skin,

a new set of bones,

burying himself deep to forget.


I do my best to erase her

with my hips, roaming fingers,

and snakebite kisses.

There’s a reason she fell

victim to his past and I became

his future—he is mine.


Sail_acrylic, pen & marker on canvas_Nathaniel St. Amour

Sail – by Nathaniel St. Amour. http://www.nathanielstamourart.com/

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