November 6, 2001

Poetry Whore

A few hours later, pajama clad, tears still salty on my cheeks.

so am i

Ice began pumping through my veins
but still it could not numb me
your face
sneering out at me from my dreams
where i covet
instead of love
do you remember what my skin felt like?
how my awkward bones grew grace at your touch?
like a winter
encountering spring
i remember what it felt like
and now
now i know what it feels like to rot