In the flutter of an eyelash,

every tendon that ties me together is

corrupted by the tinge of you.

I am revolted by your name, 

but every neuron and synapse configures 

to spell it out.

Say you love me,

even if it’s in the dark,

even if it’s under bed sheets

where no one else can hear.

I did not saw off my arm

just to be left

with a figment of you.

I didn’t contort my limbs into new shapes

just to be left

unwilling and unable

to unstick myself from the floor.

I always thought that love

would feel like

lying in a bed of daisies or

apple picking on a sunny day–

But instead, it’s a bed of nails,

the rack and screw,

a circle of fire

and I run through it over and over again

every night.

You’ve left me undone.

I cannot put my cells back together again.

I can’t

without you…