@

I just wanted to let you know that I've started to resent you again, I hate the cool nakedness of it all, the desperate attempts to cover myself before you rip off the white and scream words you practiced sixty something other times before. It's the end, hell it's been the end since it started, I've been beaten, emptied, draaaaiiiined since the day you kissed me there in front of the truck, beer bottles flying like the bees of that summer I wouldn't forget, I have forgotten.

I molded clay in the shapes of the beings that hibernate in my mind, and shared them with you, asked you if you wanted to play, the baby pitter pattering of my feet and the fingers laced with yours, i could make a dress out of how much i love you, i could build a rocket ship, she says, he says, she wont say. I'm nothing but a child, and you're nothing but the itchy memory of a father I never had, and I'll leave you with my books, with the torn out pages, and the filth I littered them with, while I bathe myself raw, and think of something other than this cliche to write about.

A tiny cup, A frigid woman,
The burning of my insides after
a murky-water skinny dip,
The expression of loss,
compared, the same as to gain, again.

A fluctuation in mood,
On Mondays, On Wednesday,
At 3:00 AM, The twilight streets,
An old man in mismatched socks,
A dog at his ankles, The decades on his face,
The amount of time for water to become ice,
From your house to mine, A tiny cup.