And the moonlight, diffused by a heaving, rhinestone city
Brings me taut remnants of your skin.
I flip open a book, its hard cover rapping me on the knee,
A new level of distraction.
I toss three words in the air, to hear their sounds
Because in this silence, even my own voice will do.
"Apple", "simultaneity", "ruse."
Nothing stirs; not the words, not the evening
Not even my fluidly disintegrating heart.
A lizard loses its tail,
My dog looks up at me adoringly,
Brown eyes full of questions of love
No one has ever asked me.
I stare back, wanting to smack her snout
So hard that I break her jaw.
I want to tell her her love is misplaced,
That her adoration is fees.
I want to tell her to become me
That sometimes, I am her.