The End.

When I wake up in the middle of the night

Screaming at shadows, dripping with sweat,

I don’t reach out for the lights.
I reach for you.
When I’m counting down the hours until break,
Cursing my job and everything under the sun,
Thinking of lunch doesn’t make me smile,
You do.
And when we lie down, laughing, in the wet grass

So we can close our eyes and wish upon a star,

I’m still smiling at you,
Knowing that my wish came true.
 
You must think I’m pathetic.
God knows I do.
If my teenage self could see me now,
Groveling in dust
Like the flea-infested dog you quickly walk past
At the butcher’s, he’d want to kill himself too.

But this is what you do to me.
You with your blazing eyes and caustic tongue,

The sly, half-smile that gets me every time,
You with your beach-tanned boys and pinstriped men,

The hushed phone calls and playful winks -

Why won’t you smile anymore?
Is it the scars on my shoulder, honey?
Where you put out your cigarettes, one sizzling dot at a time,
Painted purple over days?
  
Love found me in a nightmare once -

Whimpering, shaking, weeping blood,

Love held me in her quicksand arms

And she looked just a little like you.