Thoughts of you roughly grate
against each bruised crimson
seam that opens bloodily.

Pooling globules out of my
mind into a soiled, grease-stained pan
lined with rusty orange veins, wrapped
around like spiderwebs, collecting remnants
I once held so dear.

I’m tempted to drain each one into
the hollow funnel of forgetful nothingness.
Though a trace of you lingers amongst what
satiated the oscillating and arterial pendulum
within my enclosed ribcage.

Serrated, sawtooth, cracked vases of possibilities
layer and cake the floor, and I’m bound to step
barefoot. Sharp reminders of a twisted fantasy
that I tried to conjure into reality.