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I Love You

You taste like

Hangovers.

All sweet like yesterday like yesterday like night like interlacing fingers like zigzags

Like forgetting what is mine.

Like what is yours.

Like forgetting.

 

I’ve forgotten

I’m a poet.

I want to be.

 

You smell like fire.

You smell like yesterday’s fire, like salty skin and sweat and tasting ash on people’s necks and threat.

And threat.

And threat.

And forget.

 

I’ve forgotten

I’m a poet.

I want to be.

I need it.

 

You feel like

Warmth.

Like toast and wrapping blankets round my face around around and sleep and breathing my own breath and yours and forgetting

It’s mine.

Alone.

 

I’ve forgotten

I’m a poet.

I want to be.

I need it.

Alone.

 

I’ve forgotten how to be alone.

I’ve forgotten.

I’ve forgotten.

How.

 

You

Taste

Like

Fire.

 

You.

 

How?

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