Whole Words

It’s strange

The things

That you let yourself believe

When you’re empty

When you’re simply

One

Lone

Soul

Almost anything

Can trick you

Into feeling whole

A moment

Is easily deceived

By the greed

Of want

Of haunting need

Fresh ache

Against your teeth

And he seems to be

The thing

To ease

These hungry

Gnawing

Demons

Inside of me

Inciting pleas

That make flesh flush

With heat

He smells right

Like woods

And earth

And the wash

On the line and I’m

Stuck

Hanging out to dry

Cause I need this

I need skin

Pressed

Life flowers

In a book

Hard

Till my sweet

Runs out

Till my moisture

Is absorbed

Against his pages

And it’s been ages

So he seems

To my unbalanced self

To be my best

Attempt at rekindling

These flames

Despite the painful

Obvious truth

He

Will never really do

He

Would never

Really make bones weak

But in the state

I hate to say

It’s just so hard to see

So I take a moment

To go over

The merit

In acknowledging this truth

But when you

Starve for taste

Almost any

Fruit will do

And so I

Close my eyes

And lie

Much needed lies

To my ever aching skin

And the

Places I’ve denied

And prepare to beg

Forgiveness

For the deceit and compromise

That I take in place

Of great

At the center

Of these

Thighs

And honestly

It’s not

His fault

But it’s fate

I guess

It’s strange

The things you let yourself believe

When you’re empty

And any

One

Lone

Soul

Can trick you

Into feeling 

Whole