break my breath at your bedside.
kiss me while I’m counting teeth.
if the feelings have to die
at least it’s not our first time killing.
hold my hand
with your phantom limb,
bite the towel
while I cut my name through your wrist.
there is a martyr left in me,
there is violence on your bedsheets.
you lied about a couple of things
and I lost track of a couple rings.
the lovedrunk cowgirl 