lightheaded with leftover sighs
tangled in my chest,
i wait with a paltry, copper basin -
dew pooling in the cold curvature
of the sink's fragile center -
my body wrenched, hunchbacked,
giving obeisance to the memory of you.
collecting each tear,
shimmering and oil,
streaked with splendid silver,
overwhelmed with opulence.

arched, my spine semilunar
as my eyes fall back
into a reverie,
an incubus -

i evoke:

a kitchen.
you reading Le Bon and drumming your fingernails
as he pours naphtha into cough syrup and ammonia,
i listen to your fingers' beat and stare toward the sky,
the window stained from the sky and sweaty palms.

my mind spinning like a merry-go-round,
intoxicated with happiness -
on the dangers of together
and the loss of conscious mind -
wondering, doubting, "how long can this last?"
you start humming a lullaby
as he tacks his mixture to the wall.

my hand slips into the marble sink,
water to my lips from my palm,
the edge of the counter is stained red;
the stone's twisting pattern of greyscale swirls
screams out with the memory
of the invulnerability, the blood, the screaming -
a reverie,
an incubus.

[metal taste on my lips,
the basin and your blood]