you were never mine
and I was never yours
but there was an Us
floating somewhere between the ace of spades and a subway turnstile
clothes off in the woods
we hid amidst boughs and branches
but even in shadows we still felt so naked
splinters in my knees
as I silently begged you to stop
hands by my face
smelled of flour and water

every wound on the soul
is an amputation

the day came
that I could not see you again
I couldn't beg
or bargain
because there was
no more you
but you were my world
so there was
no more world

sandcastles at the water's edge
master craftsmen
build indefinitely
I use my hands to hold back
the waves

your conditioner feels expensive
and you've arranged your books
by color
but in my small world
there is only a man
you didn't sweep the flour that fell
while you baked those cupcakes
I can't imagine him looking at you
the way he looks at me
and I'm sure you'd say the same about me