lust doesn't always have to be graphic
but watching you walk home with him each day
makes me wish for an ending less tragic
but my mind, my mouth will not obey
for I have lost you, but never lived you
never lived you, and always loved you
yearning to caress your skin
retching at where you've been
inside your dead body, wishing to swim
wishing it had been me rather than him
the victorious taste of his blood?
or the sweet taste of bleach?
I'll abstain for now
until the stain of you recedes.
