the taste of blood
on the very tip of
your tongue,
you're entirely
convinced that his
cheshire cat smirk
and his chalkboard
i love yous are
little ways to get in
your head. but
then you realize that
he's already in your
head, that's the exact
reason you taste metal
between your teeth.
he's so into your head
that he controls your
senses, all five of them.
you've got no escape,
he's already singing
you spanish lullabies
about la luna y la sol,
using them as a
metaphor for you and i.
he's still got the scent
of an apple tree in the
late florida sun and
you're not sure how to
make a run for it.
if you were, it wouldn't
be possible, you cannot
run from your own head.
and that taste of blood
fades into the scent of
raspberries falling from
the sky above and you
hear the spanish lullabies
fade into faint whispers,
most of which are
little chalkboard
i love yous and broken
promises. and he's still
in your head, cheshire
smile and all. and again,
you're tasting blood.
and again, he's got that
little smirk. and again,
he's singing about the
moon's unbound love
for the sun. and again,
you smell the apples.
and again, the raspberries
are falling like little
droplets of rain.
and in that moment,
you remember he's
plotting little ways to get
in your head, he's just
unaware that he's already
gotten in. just then,
you look up, the chalkboard
covered in i love you,
i love you not.
