that left fingerprints in the shape of his on your skin?
How can you forget his chest? A pillow that rose and fell and beat in time against yours.
It left you tattooed with his scent.
Love is a bitch like that.
You feel nothing, then out of the blue it hits you all at once and you fall into black.
You trip a little then suddenly you want nothing more than his lips branding the back of your neck.
You muffle your thoughts with every breath shared, head burning “no”.
The day you dust yourself off and swear to never get dragged through the dirt again, you meet him.
His smile has no power, his eyes sparkle and it is nauseating.
You let your guard down, you open the door--
he takes it off its hinges.
Learning him becomes a hobby till knowing him becomes a passion.
One day you fall and wake up wrapped in his arms like sheets and you no longer need oxygen.
But love is a bitch like that.
How you run from it with all your power nevertheless, it smashes into you--
a train shattering a bird.
It chases you down, collects your pieces like change and tosses them in a fountain. It makes you believe something so implausible as he loves you too.
That him leaving must be a lie because he didn’t just want to collect your shell.
But lust is a bitch like that.
His shoulder had been there, his hands were yours but you forgot as sure as the day dies into night; nothing lasts.
He’ll never know he took fragments of you, their perfume will stain his clothes. His scent forever altered by your pain.
Love is a bitch like that,
as it turns the memory of his fingerprints
into craters burned in your skin.
They still smoke even after the rain, leaving nothing but singed earth where he once walked.