Mocking Bird DOWN

I mapped your face, like the
Egyptians mapped the stars. I knew
every part of your face, your mouth
and your hands. Your legs. In my bed. Spread.
I made you read to me, just for the sound
of your voice. I needed you, like a traveler needs
a compass.
Like a nomad needs water.
There was no flinching, only fistful’s of hair and
a battle of wills. Leaving us
bruised, and red skinned.
I let you in.
I melted in the scent that lingered
on my pillow.
I let you in.

I let you in.

Your demons stood up to mine
and war was waged with lustful biting,
and fighting, and you lit a candle;
not for my soul, but for the merging
of two black hearted giants.
I needed you.
And I trusted that you needed me.
To be free.
And to see, that what we had
was a fire unmatched.
Our ritualistic swapping of words,
bite marks and evidence of there having
been a struggle,
a beautiful painful needful struggle.

I let you in.
You left.
I stopped looking at the stars,
but the stains left from
the ink you jabbed my heart with
will always be.
Just for me.
My map.
My stars.
My compass.

A woman like you sets fire
to the ghosts you leave behind.
I am too stubborn to burn,
so I was left behind… resigned. In my mind.
That there will never be another you.
No more searing pain, and blazing brain,
no more scorching kisses,
no more.

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