PIEL DE MIEL

los cinco sentidos

you're painted on the walls, blood red paint splashed all over the walls and painted on the bones of my skull and crimson, crimson, crimson tears were smudged over your teeth and licked over my fingers and now everything is stained with your ugly thoughts and what's even worse is that it's painted on the backs of my eyelids so even if i want to close my eyes to shut you out you're in the background always and i can never get away from you but he's painted his own shade of blue over yours so i can be reminded of the clear sky when when he makes me screw my eyes shut when he licks away my flesh with his lips.

you're my 5am alarm, screeching in my ear and reminding me wakeup!wakeup!imrighthereopenyourdamneyes you bring me up out of my sleep and crawl inside my brain and stay there so even when i'm listening to his moans (and i swear to him that i can't hear anything else but him but we both know that's a lie) that damn melody of your laughter is playing a soundtrack in my ears like a fucking earworm that made a home in my veins. (but he's created a better playlist of the way i make him cry out to a god that he doesn't believe in).

you're in the smell of the tulips outside my patio (do you remember those? you planted them there while you planted your nails into my back and you swore you would come to water them but instead you let them soak up the sun and wither away from your touch just like you did to me) it swirls through my head and curls into my limbs and the sickeningly sweet aroma makes me wanna vomit up the seeds you planted in my lungs but luckily he watered them and thinks that i inhaled them when i was blooming into him.

you're in the pink lemonade that slides down my throat when i'm dehydrated from the lack of your words whispered in my ear. the artificial rosado leaves a bitter taste on my tongue and the acid leaves my mouth stinging because i'm missing taste buds on the tip of my tongue because you bit them off and took them for yourself because you wanted to taste me as much as you possibly could but the sugar coats my throat so that it's sweeter for him to taste and because you always thought i was too sweet (but guess what? i found a boy that can handle my candy coating) (and he doesn't know about the sour acid you dipped your fingers in and dragged over my skin because he's been able to lick every sweet inch of me and drench me in his peppermint kiss).

i can feel you in between the books and pages and letters that i've been able to drown my eyes in because i run my fingers over the ink and i can feel you pricking at my skin because you want me to peel you off the page and turn your dialogue into something that actually has some meaning (but you never had any meaning even though i've been giving you one when i shouldn't because then you'll think that you can give someone else the feelings that you gave me when everything was made up to make myself feel better) but i've scraped away at you so now you're stuck under my fingernails and you can't be reconstructed and he made sure of that too because he realized what ugly rhetoric was written on the page so he threw them away when i asked him to because i couldn't look at them too closely because then i'd compromise my reading ability.

and the reason this is happening is because i'm allowing it to. it's because i want to feel you under my tongue and taste you from my fingertips again and this lucid illusion is crawling its way into my reality. but the truth is that i've found someone new and i have a whole new array of skin to taste and new eyes to drown in and new hands to breach into mine. he's trying to rewrite history for me so that i can smell him in the new books that i've read and so that i can see him in the pink petals outside my window and so that i can taste him in the crimson paintings he's drawn for me and so that i can hear him in the pink lemonade sloshing in my glasses and around the lenses and so that i can feel him in my morning alarm (and he's come up with a better way to wake me up than screaming into my ear; he makes art between my legs and dips his fingers into the paint and tastes the honeydew from his fingertips). and i've never been happier before i've met him so i'm glad you were able to infiltrate my vision because he was able to trace over it and create much more enjoyable sights for me.