Stomach Ache (draft)

Stomach Ache (draft)

I can't afford your love.
I can't afford for you to love me.
I can't bandage the bruises on my heart.
I would slice my chest,
peel back the layers of my hot skin like an onion.
Split my ribcage open like shelling a nut.
Serve you the wounded organ on china,
dripping my emotions, still steaming with my passion for you.

I can't afford your affection.
I can't afford to feel affection towards you.
I can't sew up my shattered emotions.
I would hammer my skull,
disassemble the puzzle of cracked bone.
Bleed my brain from its liquidy womb.
My most visceral offering, the tender meat of my gentle words,
whispering your name, still squirming with the anticipation of you.

I can't afford your truth.
I can't afford to be truthful with you.
I can't stanch the words my tongue bleeds.
I would rend my lips,
slit my gums like skinning a grape.
Wrench my teeth from their sockets.
Cleave the muscle from its fleshy mooring like an oyster,
twisting in my agony, still lapping up your attention.

I can't afford your love.
I can't afford your affection.
I can't afford your truth.
I can't (afford to) lose this.


(c) 2/1/2012