the laugh you shared with him is open barbs to me
like razorwire on fields of open skin.
you joke about the time and how i'm stuck at home
and you're both so perfect in the way you look beneath the lamplight
christ it makes me sick

and before it gets too late
i'd like to clear my name
cos if you and he keep on like this much longer
i never want to talk to you again.

touch is the gateway drug to infidelity and as the
moon hangs bloated from a mobile made of stars and airplanes
i feel so destroyed and ugly while you reach on tiptoes to
caress the neck i'd like to push in with my thumbs.

and before it gets too late
i'd like to clear my name
cos if you and he keep on like this much longer
i never want to talk to you again.

and i'm spilling out again
and i can't even see
what should be obvious
to stupid, wind-up me
with needles in my eyes
and slabs of stone for hands
i've been demoted down
to something less than man.

i relied on hope.