Mar 30

Gowanus

Water, you run through me. Suffocate and sweep my lungs.
my chipped nail polish canvassed against the curve of 
your spine. Cold taxi cabs, your hand on my thigh.
you cut me with your lethal words, and you dare
to kiss 
my scars. 
i hate loving you. 

but i never said no. 

Concrete, you built me. Vandalized and tore me down.
my notebooks sponged my gowanus canal tears.
i screamed and wept acid onto my pillowcase.
i had a tattooed anger for you, washed over
and over again 
with the taste of your mouth.

how could i say no?