last night i dreamt you were mine
and i smiled when i held you
but i woke up
and you were his again

and i sit here
and drink my bottle of jack
to numb the pain,
and a few tears
squeeze out into the night.
they sting,
but so do i

and soon the blood pours
out of my hollow stomach,
my white sheets staining red.
they’ll be brown in the morning.
i’ll be grey and cold and silent

the body will lie here
and maybe, my best baby,
you’ll stop by and stick your white hands
in the mess.
the congealed guts will glob
between your fingers
and
though it may wash away
the stains will stay on your heart
and on your brain
and they’ll glue themselves there,
wet and gushy and flaming.
and then you’ll remember me
forever