I’ve Been Burned

I’ve perfected the art of perfecting the arts. I’ve divided my heart into five different parts: first- the one that’s just blood and tissue. Secondly the part that claims to miss you and the other three parts lay still like bone because you can’t breathe a pulse into a piece of stone. No one ever sings themselves to sleep it takes an orphan’s song to make them dream because “insomnia is in this season” being wide awake is an excuse not a reason…the bite mark swells on the side of my neck. I hear three church bells ring away the sunset my heartbeat jumps and I’m dead in a cold sweat stuttering provisions in the death of a salesman the bookmark falls from the spine to the lift as my hallway drags. I take another hit it’s the faded blues and shining greens that make an otherwise natural smooth come clean a snap of the fingers, click of the tongue another pop of the collar and the radio hums…”hey, hey, hey- aren’t you sick of this yet?”And I never meant for you to regret this like I do.