I can't remember anything after I kissed you.
I don't remember you.
But, I remember you in me.
You see, I save everything.
I'm a collector.
i know the human race.
i have rubbed them all over my body and yelled at them when they didn't agree with me.
Of course they knew I knew you before I was born.
In a meadow.
By a hemlock.
And then, the years were torn away like pages in a calendar that was carved by ghosts on my tomb.
i was hidden under the floorboards and creaked over for years, until you mentioned my name and I turned and fell and cried.
That's what I remember of love.
I've made love seven times today;
To the door,
To the past,
With all of my ghosts and their cousins.
Satin children all lines up to see me fail.
I drank a cup of tea in a room labeled loneliness,
And then cracked my vein open
And fed it with drugs from the graveyard,
Ones I had collected that morning,
Distilled from frost
And suffering from empathy.
It was then that I caught myself in the mirror,
Propped up at the tomb of myself in the future.
I was playing at the cinema.
My head was the projector.
And my eyes saw what you will never see,
Your contempt for me,
Which you kept hidden in a little canvas satchel,
Under the bones
That used to be our bed.