i came here to see you

behind the supermarket by your house
at night fluorescent flickers
rolling a cigarette on the step
like origami

and i thought
'you always said that
death was pretty'

bloodletting

being with you is like
pressing needles to the softest
upper thigh
just gently pressing
until it punctures

it's implicit
like the moment after saying
that i hate you
living always in the silence

it is the grammar of your native tongue